Faction &nbsp; FORT WRATH (The Scar Hounds)

The Runt

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 1

CRUCIBLE'S SISTER, SOUTH FACE OF MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

Greetings, you big glorious wench of a mountain.
You present a challenge I must conquer - and conquer I most-certainly will.

Standing atop a low plateau, or rather, a lower plateau on Mar'Zambul's tallest mountain, coincidentally of a similar altitude to that of Camp Crucible, the Bloodhound was looking up towards the vast titan he still had left to climb. Glorious she was, but despite the majestic beauty the sight beheld for the one-eyed Woad in these moments, Barran still couldn't bring himself to deny she was more frightening, more dread-inducing than all the mountains he had forced himself to climb before.

<"Sword Wing, this is Hack from Squadron Command. You are free to ascend, I repeat - free to ascend. Easier for us to follow.">
<"Copy that, Squadron Command. Be careful with the rampart walls, but we'll ascend quickly in any case. Mutt out!">

However, the challenge was needed for more than the reasons Thomas was willing to reveal, as the events that transpired on Panatha (and the duel on Empress Teta adding to the turmoil within) still weighed heavily on his mind at the time. And thus, the challenges presented would reveal a need for distraction from it all, even if it was only fated to be for a little while; no rest for the wicked, or at least in this case,"No rest for the vengeful.", would have been more fitting for Barran's ilk. This welcome distraction, however, would be needed for the storm that was expected on the horizon, and it was predicted to be quite the storm already, though this was another of Barran's welcome occurrences. Everything was clicking into place, but in light of the enemies they were making on all sides of the Light/Dark divide, the one-eyed Woad was well aware of the necessity for preparation, and this mountain would contribute much and more to this process.

<"Oooooh, chit! All wings, this is Squadron Commmand! Look lively, we've got a landing ping for the Warlord's base-camp.... Almost the exact same altitude as Camp Crucible - I see what he's doing.... Best place to start, highest of the previous best. Looks like we'll be busy today, perhaps even tomorrow too. Hack out!">

Well-considered though the base-camp's chosen location had been, the Bloodhound needed to continue climbing, setting waypoints as the incline intensified with each plateau he was set to reach on the way up, leaving the construction landings behind him before they even had a chance to land and discuss the finer nuances of their Warlord's plan for Mt. Cerberus. And as predicted by damn near all who were involved in the first phases of Barran's great idea, this would be a busy few days for the secretive first part after all, with the relevant pilots and crewmen travelling back and forth from their loading station to Mt. Cerberus for multiple quick-construction actions for as long as Thomas continued to climb. None of the tactical-construction pilots could understand how their Warlord could embrace such altitudes with wild abandon, even after feeling it for themselves after a point.

And despite their training and the air-filtration in their helmets, it didn't take them long to commend Barran through heavy breaths of their own, yielding surprises within surprises as a result of the Warlord's tenacity - eventually forcing Squadron Command to rethink their own approach for ascending the mountain safely.

The second day was one of the biggest (and very likely the singlemost difficult) challenge in their time together as Scar Hounds, as the altitude adjustments required the pilots to stay in the air for longer, testing fuel and body-resistance limits in ways they never thought were possible before that day, and losing ore than a few experienced comrades to the steepening adjustment difficulty as they continued. Beyond the halfway point, Squadron Command could only guess how much the one-eyed Woad was struggling by then, and in the more extreme assumptions, the amplified exertions could only have been doubled or tripled in Barran's perspective. But the beacon he used as a walking-staff at the time continued to light up in search of pairing every time, and in continuation of his comm-silence, kept going as soon as each spot was triangulated, never once looking back.

<"Hack patching in! Preemptive apologies, Warlord. But the last three plateaus are beyond our means to reach in these ships. We can afford one to be directed from orbit, but that's us done and dusted on this end for now.">
<"This is fine, Hack. An' being perfectly honest, you did better than expected. Get back to Dragon Station and recuperate for now, will mark the orbital drop tonight before I rest properly for tomorrow.">

Well-supplied though he was, and strong though his legs were, the Bloodhound knew the pilots were bound to give up eventually, and when the drops eventually ceased, Barran knew he needed to slow down and rest before the final push for the summit. Leaving him with the insulated beginnings of a plateau-station before departing southward again, Squadron Command would make a point of handing the last part of the process over to the Orbital Squadron over comms along the way, but not before patching one last comm-link entry through to their Warlord in the hopes there was nothing further for Barran to demand of them.

<"Good luck up there, Bloodhound. You're gonna need it.">
<"Thanks, now feth off an' leave me be for now. Bloodhound out!">

Thomas wouldn't stay for long, choosing instead to climb far enough to sleep in the orbital-dropped units instead, though the Warlord knew fine and well how much it would tax him physically to achieve it, still completely unaware of the intensity that awaited him on the third day's push for the summit. And after the suffering of the altitude-adjustment of the first night, that of the second was proving to be much more of an issue in comparison, but when the Bloodhound awoke the next morning, he would find himself fortunate that his acclimatisation had gone more easily than planned. The rest, sustenance and sleep had worked their wonders, and in his haste to reach the claw-like peak of Mt. Cerberus' terrifying upper-form, filled up on food and water once more and considered his real reason for climbing such an insurmountable challenge for a moment or two before setting off once more, using it as motivation as he abandoned the beacon-staff and tackled the sky-scratching beast once and for all.

<"Magnars, Deathless and Undying - this is the Bloodhound! Come find me at the top of Mt. Cerberus. Climb if you can! Find me within the cave near the summit! If my greatest warriors wish to remain as such, you will ascend sooner or later! CLIMB FOR ALL YOU'RE WORTH!!!!">

Ronar · Oct 9, 2022

Location: Base of Mt. Cerberus
Equipment: Bloodreaver vibroaxe, climbing gear
Tags:

Thomas Barran

At the base of Mt. Cerberus, where the winds were calm, a single man knelt in stoic silence. He was dressed in clothing that was simple yet rugged, in shades of black and violet. A heavy pack lay on the ground beside him, while a massive vibroaxe lay on the ground before him. The blade shimmered in the dwindling sunlight, reflected rays illuminating the scarred face of the statue kneeling over it.

So knelt Ronar, the Lord of Wolves, a man who had seen many things, heard many things, and destroyed many things. Once, he had been an ambitious and power-hungry raider, obsessed with gaining the glory and position that as a child he had long been denied. Now, he was something very different. He was still a warrior, still a slayer, but he was also a leader, a warlord, with a cadre of loyal warriors standing beside him. What he had once seen as pawns he now saw as brothers, a concept that had been unthinkable mere months before. Loyalty and camaraderie, ideas that he had once dismissed as weakness, were now his strengths.

Once he had been a lone wolf. Now, he had a pack.

But even with this great achievement, there were still many obstacles to overcome. The battles of Panatha had scarred him thoroughly; not only physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Two of his brothers had nearly fallen, and still remained hospitalized in a Mar’Zambul medical facility. One of them was having to make the decision of whether to replace his entire lower torso with machinery or to never walk again. The other had brain damage so severe he could barely remember his own name. The two who remained were even more cold and distant than they had been before the battle, worry for their comrades and for their warlord plunging them into a sea of anxiety-driven rage

Ronar himself had given over to his battle-lust so severely that the last days of Panatha were an unrecognizable blur. He could remember fighting, the specters of long-dead Scar Hound warriors beside him, but the details, of how he had survived or even how he had escaped, were gone like mist on a summer morning. He had not fully recovered from the blood feast until he and the remaining Violet Wolves were safely aboard a Scar Hound transport, speeding away from the doomed world. Had it been a victory? Truth be told, Ronar didn’t care. He had drowned himself in blood, and that should be a victory, and yet his pack, his family, was broken, and may never recover. To the man that Ronar had become, this was a failure without question.

But he couldn’t allow himself to drown in sorrow. He had refused to give up after the failure at Tython, or even after the inconclusive battle at Mustafar. He had refused to give up when the rift appeared and nearly claimed the life of his youngest Wolf. He had never given up before, and he refused to do so now. The Bloodhound had sent out the call, commanding all who would call themselves Magnar to scale the great Mt. Cerberus and prove their worth. As he had time and time again, Ronar would accept the challenge, and, like he always had before, he would conquer it.

Raising his head to the sky, Ronar stood. He gripped Bloodreaver in a gloved fist, resting the handle on the ground to transform weapon to walking stick. He lugged the pack onto his broad shoulders, and began to walk. His gaze was steely, his muscles were tensed. The journey would be long and arduous, and he would have to pace himself, but he refused to be anything less than the greatest. He would be the first to reach the Bloodhound, and the first to claim his proper place.

He was the Lord of Wolves, and woe betide any who stood in his way.

Ardana Vorco · Oct 11, 2022

Spindly
Warden of Hrjóstrugt IV, Magnarra and Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Objective: Return back to her Tribe
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
Tags:

Ronar | Open

[ Last Survivors ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Spindly was still a simple soldier who didn't like things related to the Force, they were too mystical for her. And one thing for sure, the young twi'lek woman hated the undead as well. Not only because they are often stinky, smelling of rot, but they are much harder to kill than the average enemy. After all, they were no longer alive. Not to mention that even among them there were those who were able to use the Force. Spindly, as much as she wanted to be a great Marauder, one worthy of the legacy of the first warlord, the godlike

The Mongrel , well she wasn't. At least, yet.

At least she didn't think she was. True, the woman didn't have much chance to fight Force Users yet. She wasn't even sure she wanted such a thing. Space magic was like a fairy tale thing. Despite this, she still killed a necromancer on Panatha. While she was in the infirmary of Final Dawn, she thought a lot, but she couldn't really find the solution. She knew that without the help of

Jas Katis , it certainly wouldn't have happened. She still didn't know the armoured man's name, but she did know that they were on the enemy side. Except when it came to the undead.

The girl ended up killing the necromancer, cutting off its head or crushing it. She didn't remember anything but the pain. Because the girl had a very deep stab wound to her stomach, so she didn't even remember how she got off the planet because she lost consciousness. When she regained consciousness, she was very surprised to find that she was on one of Final Dawn's ships. She had always been treated by tribal shamans before, so this was very unusual for her. She knew that in the past, this grace had only been given to Mercy, under Mongrel's warlordship to be treated by non-tribal healers. Because she was his best agent and, as it turned out after his death, his wife too.

This is where the woman stopped for a moment, didn't he? No, that was completely out of the question. She did not want such a thing, she did not want to think of such a thing. That is, she really hoped it wouldn't be like that, that the Bloodhound wouldn't want anything in return for this medical treatment. Because then the man has to be disappointed and maybe the girl has to try to kill him...

Spindly was late for the meeting because her condition did not improve as quickly even with the treatments. So she arrived on the day when the Bloodhound had already given the order to climb the mountain. The shuttle carrying the girl landed in the part where Barran was also waiting for the others after the mountain and rock climbing. As a matter of fact, the girl was in no condition to climb mountains or perform any tasks. They didn't really want to let her go from the infirmary either, but she wanted to go.

When the shuttle landed and she disembarked, the immense gravity made every step excruciatingly painful for her. Even so, she approached the place where the man was, already shouting in advance.

"Warlord, I'm back! It's me, Spindly!" she greeted the man.

After all, she was a simple woman…

Thomas Barran · Oct 15, 2022

2ND POST

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags:

The Mongrel

The Runt

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 2

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

<"Magnars, Deathless and Undying - this is the Bloodhound! Come find me at the top of Mt. Cerberus. Climb if you can! Find me within the cave near the summit! If my greatest warriors wish to remain as such, you will ascend sooner or later! CLIMB FOR ALL YOU'RE WORTH!!!!">

The last known transmission of the Warlord.

And in the earliest parts of that comm-silence, something new was already beginning to form, promising the makings of an entirely different man, laying the ground work for some-one or some-thing greater to walk back down to the valley floor again. Something was happening, and though everyone could feel and articulate such feelings with ease by then, none could say for sure what all the reports and hearsay meant, nor of what it's implications meant in the long run. None on Mar'Zambul, none on Rhigar, none on Shihon, Oyokal or on Tiantang for that matter, none could say but the Bloodhound, his most-trusted subordinates and the Dark Three.

It was enough to know that the mountain would be conquered for the sake of the others, but to be able to climb higher than he ever had before, Barran rejoiced every laboured step with this at the forefront of his mind in self-motivation, elatedly pushing for the very height of greatness with naught but wonder in his heart. A great future could be felt in his gut, and when Thomas eventually stood at the very summit of Mt. Cerberus, looking out across the great expanse of Mar'Zambul's frozen north in complete bliss for the first time in his second life, the Bloodhound would find all the grace and life-affirming inspiration he wished to internalise awaiting him in every fatigued sigh at the top of the world. Ambitions were awakening within the one-eyed Woad there, flooding his mind with what he inwardly dubbed,"Rights yet to be claimed.", and in the Bloodhound's mind, all of it was possible.

Let me judge the faithful from the heretics, the adherent from blasphemers.
Let me judge the true from their lessers, let me find my answers to knighthood.

THE GREATEST OF ALL MARAUDERS

Inhaling all the air he could get, caring not for how little oxygen was contained within each breath, the one-eyed Woad threw his head back and roared into the clouds beyond with all his might, unleashing every last ounce of furious elation into the wilderness below in his declaration of lasting dominance over Mar'Zambul in it's entirety. Then after beating his chest for a few moments in the last throes of his screams, the thin air briefly reminded the Bloodhound that he ironically still had a mountain to climb, with elements of the fabled Cerberus still yet to be conquered despite the Woad's loud triumph at summit. Yet despite the gravity's nauseating effects, Thomas would embrace the wake-up call it offered on the matter of what he had in mind for this beast of a mountain, and the imagined fortress-city he intended to build from the rocks of the caves within, only to drift to thoughts of the Galaxy beyond.

Thoughts on how best to wield the power granted by his status as tribal Warlord of the Scar Hounds, harassing every corner and crevice in the Woad's mind as he descended back towards the mountain's uppermost cave.

It is not my circumstances that lead me to think about such things...
But if not - what? Naw, who spurs me on like this?

It wasn't believed to be Mother Rebirth, and for that matter, nor the Avatars of War and Death; but in his assurance it wasn't the godly powers who ruled over the Unknown Region, assumptions of the celestial quickly drifted towards those of the spiritual instead, awakening curiosities of the effect the dead (and the lessons they imparted before their deaths) began to make sense of his sudden change in mindset. If it wasn't for the joined dreaming vision of his predecessors, and of his mentor most of all, the one who ordered the others to find him - the one who made the choice to set the one-eyed Woad on his second life's path.

The Mongrel.
Did you foresee events like this coming to pass, Mentor?
Was this an eventuality meant solely for the Scar Hounds, as you an' I know them?

Standing with the wind blowing at his back, looking out across the frozen northern wilderness, the Bloodhound couldn't help but ponder on the plans the Mongrel may or may not have designed on Mar'Zambul's uncharted regions, wondering if his mentor perhaps even climbed Mt. Cerberus in secret in the years before or after the agony that was the Woad's resurrection. Thomas had no way of knowing what his mentor was doing in secret, and for that matter, no way of knowing his predecessor's intentions, all Thomas could have hoped was that the Mongrel at least gazed on the towering monster with a mind to climb and conquer it someday.

These thoughts would continue to plague the Warlord's mind as he began to make his way downhill, but after a half-hour or so, the unmistakable sound of a drop-pod breaking through the orbital sphere could be heard, looking up to find his suspicions confirmed. The Orbital Squadron had not been cued for action, and with no sign of their carrier-ships on the horizon, the Bloodhound could only guess at the identity of the one dropping towards the nearest plateau, though Barran was still wise enough to assume it was a Marauder dropping to find him specifically. And yet, despite the fact his mind was still preoccupied with the profound nature of his ambitions, the obvious soon landed in his lap, reminding the one-eyed Woad there was one he wasn't considering - one he had hoped to see after the madness of Panatha's last hours.

Stabbed in the gut, and losing quite a lot of blood from other cuts incurred in her fight for survival in the jungles of Canthar Province, and still ferocious enough to behead and scatter skull and brain matter in all directions; proof of Vorco's worth, and though their adversaries from the Lost Brigade drifted into the mists and escaped, Ardana still had enough fight in her heart to kill their best Necromancer. If anyone had earned the right to stand in proud, confident autonomy, and especially in close proximity to Barran's presence, Spindly was more than safe enough to assume she finally had the freedom to speak and act of her own accord, owing it all to her deeds, her Warlord and the golden-skull signet ring he bequeathed her. However, as for the matter of whether the Twi'Lek remembered the words or the nature of the Woad's little ascension ritual, the latter wasn't sure, though Thomas didn't mind making sense of everything that transpired after the fight.

Madder than most of us-
And yet, even Mother Rebirth sees what I see in Spindly's fury....

Artistry, pure artistry.

Vorco had landed very close to the cave near the summit, forcing Barran to walk back upwards to meet the drop-pod as it hurtled off it's predicted landing-trajectory, but it made little difference; the Woad was close and willing to go whichever way suited best, and the Twi'Lek would have all the help she needed as soon as she stepped out into the harsh, cold thin air. In time, the Magnarra would be strong enough to recover more-quickly, taking less damage to the organs as a result of build-up in muscle fibers along the way, toughening up through comprehensive means in the Bloodhound's urge to make Jedi-killers of his Magnars. And yet, as much as the prospect set his imagination into overdrive, Thomas knew this would take time, as it did for everyone else in the Tri-Lunar clique. But somehow, recalling the beauty of her natural fighting abandon as far back as Tython, it was already quite clear that Ardana was something of a natural talent in the making.

'Warlord, I'm back! It's me, Spindly!'

Rolling his eyes, Barran kindly replied,'I know its you, Spindly! But first, please - dispense with the formalities!', approaching with head bowed in genuine respect for all the Magnarra had achieved to warrant the bestowal of such a title. Then after a brief call for silence with index covering his own lips, letting Ardana take in the grandiose calm of the view beyond as he looked to the horizon again for a minute or so, Thomas finally continued,'Besides, nobody here yet to give ye flak on the matter.... But then again, not that I'd let them. You've come too far an' too quick for me to let such things stand after all, just look at your signet ring for instance. You remember, or....?', ending with a query as he pointed to the ruby skull on his own signet-ring - and with the same index finger he had hushed himself with a couple minutes before.

Erion Justeene · Oct 16, 2022

Objective: Meet with The Bloodhound
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags:

Ronar |

Keilara Kala'myr |

The Mongrel |

Ardana Vorco |

The Runt

Superious survived the destruction and was able to see it vanish in a firework of rocks and plasma. He got away from Parantha with his limbs attached but with the Force in turmoil, he laid low with a week-long migraine from the sheer turbulence of the Dark Side. So he dropped from the radar since then to recover and compile his reports. They were mostly for his records and files but there is one the Bloodhound would be interested in, so it remained unfiled and in its raw unrefined state.

As of right now, he is free to follow what the Bloodhound had said during their meeting on the Planet. He had not forgotten, he just needed time to sit on the prospect for a while. During his time out of conflict, he started to read deeply into Sith Lore to refresh the code and the tenets.

There is no substitution for hands-on Sith Lord duties which is why he travelled here to get something out of this expedition for himself. The mountains soon came into view and the Sith checked the coordinates to check them with the version he had received. Both matched and this was where he'll meet the Bloodhound.

Superious soon realised he is not alone, more had joined the mission, to save time and calories, the Ubese landed his starfighter close to Mt. Cerberus's base camp. Well, it didn't look like a dog monster, he had imagined it looking like one. So much for perception but still it gave him a comical mental image.

Once everything was secure and the Holocrons he kept in the cockpit were tidied away, he disembarked. The weather was ideal but there were hints of unpredictability in the air too. With this in mind, Superious used the Force to scale the mountain, making sure to avoid unstable footholds as he did, making sure to hone in on Bloodhound's signature.

Ronar · Oct 24, 2022

Location: Base of Mt. Cerberus
Equipment: Bloodreaver vibroaxe, climbing gear
Tags:

Thomas Barran

Erion Justeene

It been a long day for the Lord of Wolves. Step by step, foot by foot, he had made his way up the long and perilous trail on his journey to the summit, and his audience with the Bloodhound. Already he had passed the first of the Bloodhound's waypoints, but Ronar had refused to pause. The wind was beginning to howl, and the snows beginning to flurry, but Ronar pressed on, assured of his strength and stamina, certain that he would reach the Bloodhound within the day.

Of course, Mother Nature was the bane of the best laid plans, and Ronar was now realizing that scaling the great mountain was not the journey of a single day. The gravity of Mar'Zambul, though not unfamiliar to the Lord of Wolves, still lay heavy on his shoulders, increasing the weight of the pack full of supplies and clothing. Ronar gritted his teeth against the cold and his fatigue, shifting the pack as he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. As the ground had disappeared beneath the snow and fog he had lost track of his progress. How far was he from the summit? What direction was the next waypoint? He couldn't tell.

As much as he hated to admit it, Ronar was tiring. He had marched all day, and the mountain's sword of wind and cold was cutting deeper and deeper into his skin with every portion climbed. What's more, the sky was darkening, stealing the last vestiges of warmth from the air. He needed to find shelter, a place to rest and eat and plan his next move. With stormy eyes the Scar Hound warlord began searching for what safe lodging the mountain could provide, whether a cave, a cravasse, or even just a crag out of the wind.

By some miracle, around the next loop in the trail, he saw exactly what he was looking for. A decent size cave, the entrance nearly covered in snow, loomed out of the rock just ahead. Ronar, heart pounding, wanted to lap for joy and charge into the sanctuary, but before he could he froze, hair standing on end as every instinct for danger suddenly screamed in unison. Eyes darting, Ronar looked around in search of the source of the feeling, hand gripping Bloodreaver as the blood in his veins turned as icy as the mountain air. Something was out there, he could feel it. Could feel it as if its hot breath was blowing right on the nape of his neck.

Realization dawned as Ronar leaped forward, the roar of a wampa echoing through the air as a meaty paw missed Ronar's diving head by millimeters. The Lord of Wolves tucked and rolled, coming up into a fighting stance just in time to meet the charge of one of the most infamous of galactic beasts. Ronar wondered for a moment how one of the beasts native to Hoth had ended up on Mar'Zambul, but had no further time to ponder before the wampa roared again and charged, massive paws swinging. Ronar roared back and swung, Bloodreaver leaving a bloody gash on one of the beasts' paws. The wampa howled in pain as Ronar dodged and swung again, vibroaxe connecting with the beast's bulky left leg. A screaming backhand, surprisingly fast for a beast of the wampa's size, caught Ronar off-guard, sending him flying into the snow, where he shook the daze from his head just in time to roll out of the way of a two-handed slam.

Coming up again, the familiar roar of battle in his ears, Ronar gripped Bloodreaver tightly, awaiting the wampa's next move. It came without hesitation, the beast once again charging in an attempt to catch the Lord of Wolves in a fatal bearhug. Ronar, a cry of battle on his lips, met the charge, dodging a flailing paw as he lunged to the wampa's right, swinging Bloodreaver. The fearsome vibroaxe caught the wampa in its abdomen, carving a deep and bloody gash. The animal screamed and swung again, but this time Ronar was ready for the backhand, ducking it and taking advantage of the opening to swing Bloodreaver with full-powered two-handed swing that bit into the wampa's shoulder. The arm fell to the ground, and before the beast could recover Bloodreaver bit again, this time into its leg at the crude knee joint. Flailing to the ground, the wampa was rendered helpless as a final cleave ripped open its brawny chest. The death throes of the beast vanished quickly, sucked away by the howling winds.

Sometime later, Ronar crouched in the cave next to a roaring fire, feeding it with sticks, kept dry in his pack, and gobs of wampa fat. His lips dripped with the blood of the beast as he feasted on its perfectly roasted flesh. In the corner, the wampa's head sat buried in snow to preserve it as best as Ronar could, while back at the fire Ronar ran his utility knife through the hide, preparing it in the tradition of his people. It wouldn't be perfect, with the cold and the lack of tools, but Ronar was not the kind of man to abandon a trophy to rot on the side of a mountain. The beast's white-furred hide would be a prize addition to his cold weather gear.

Suddenly, a thought occurred in the mind of the Lord of Wolves. Maybe he wouldn't keep the hide. This trek was supposed to be a test, no? Proof that he was worthy to be called a Scar Hound? To be called a Magnar? A smile pulled at Ronar's lips as tore into the hide with both renewed vigor and renewed focus. Lack of resources be damned, this hide would be as perfect as he could possibly achieve. It would be perfect, and when he reached the summit, he would present it with pride. A gift born of blood and battle.

A gift for the Bloodhound.

Ardana Vorco · Oct 26, 2022

Spindly
Warden of Hrjóstrugt IV, Magnarra and Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Objective: Return back to her Tribe
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
Tags:

Ronar |

Erion Justeene | Open

[ Last Survivors ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

The bitter cold was good in that it allowed the Twi'lek girl to wake up. She was in a rather sleepy mood, thanks to the many drugs she had been given that were still in her veins and body. True, it was necessary for her to be able to walk despite her pain. But the cold blew away her dullness and tiredness, which she really needed. She had spent the last few days in a medicated delirium, which she did not find pleasant at all. It made her thinking even slower and indifferent to the world. And a marauder couldn't be like that...

… as they had a sacred mission to fulfil the will of the Dark Three. And she couldn't do this lying in the infirmary, with drugs in her body. And if she were to die injured on the battlefield because she was not fully healed. Well, it wouldn't be the injury's fault, but the Dark Three would have finally thought she was worthy of going to paradise with them. She had nothing to lose. For her, any ending would have been what the Dark Three wanted.

She didn't really know what it was like to abandon formalities. She didn't have the memories of who she was before the Maw or what life could be outside the Maw. Sometimes she had dreams of another life, of who she once was, but when she woke up, those images slipped from her mind like sand used to slip through people's fingers. Nothing remained of them, nor of the former Ardana Vorco; now there was only Spindly, who was a soldier, a marauder, a slave-soldier. She is not the hopeful child of a rich clan.

"I don't know what it's like to dispense with the formalities, my Lord… I've always been formal since I've been here." she told him.

At the next question, she looked at the ring, then at the Warlord. She had to think about what happened that day. She didn't remember too much, everything went blurry and vague. Even in the infirmary, she tried to recall how she got there, what happened, but she really didn't remember much. At the end she shook her head and she looked at the Warlord again.

" I don't remember much, Warlord. I know I was running from the undead and I met you and an armoured person, I think. Then the undead reached us, somehow, I flew. And I don't remember anything after that. I don't know how I got hurt, how I got off the planet…" she explained.

She looked down at the ground for a few moments, then into the distance, then back at the man.

"Why do you want to know this, Warlord? Did something happen there?" she asked him.

Thomas Barran · Nov 4, 2022

3RD POST

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags:

Armand Narrdrenn

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 3

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

Poor Spindly....
Mark my words - I will awaken your freedom of will.

Seeing the pains, both physical and psychological alike wreaking havoc on one whom he valued greatly, respecting the artistry of the Magnarra's wrathful fighting abandon, it made the Bloodhound despise Exegol all the more to see it manifest in such a fashion. And like their revered Warlord, all Ardana's brethren within the Tri-Lunar Clique wished to see her freed of the hold it had over her, especially after seeing the wonders of Vorco in action on Tython, and hearing tell of her greatest exploits yet from her time on Panatha.

Spindly belonged, and everyone else knew it for a fact by then.

'I don't know what it's like to dispense with the formalities, my Lord… I've always been formal since I've been here.'

Motioning gestures of intent to help move her around, Thomas remained silent as Ardana pondered on the meaning of the signet-rings and her Warlord's need to dispense with the formalities, and though it hurt the Woad to see that pain repressed so greatly for the Twi'Lek's own sake, Barran understood that those sorts of wounds would always take time to heal. The process of torturing and rebuilding the would-be Marauders of the Scar Hounds had been proven unnecessary by the Mongrel in his free-willed approach to strategy and leadership alike, and again but later in the Bloodhound's very own Tri-Lunar clique, showing that radicalisation and the Dark Three alone were enough to help just five Marauders fight with the strength of fifty. Vorco believed, but the others had to find a way to show her the cleanest, purest way to faithful self-actualisation, and even the one-eyed Woad knew this would have it's fair share of difficulties along the way.

'I don't remember much, Warlord. I know I was running from the undead and I met you and an armoured person, I think. Then the undead reached us, somehow, I flew. And I don't remember anything after that. I don't know how I got hurt, how I got off the planet…'

Clenching his jaw at how short-sighted he had been, Thomas believed himself momentarily dumb for letting such possibilities slip by him like that, normally being aware enough at least to consider his comrades with more sympathy than that, Barran understood that his approach was needed to be taken from the very beginning. However, Vorco's attention had once again returned to the signet ring on her Warlord's right pinky-finger, bringing her back to remembering the silent gesture the one-eyed Woad had expressed just moments before.

'Why do you want to know this, Warlord? Did something happen there?'

'First off, lets get you sat down at the cave-entrance here. We really don't need t'be working you like this.', the Warlord quickly shot back, but in endearment and reassurance he was thinking for her sake on such unsteady, dangerous ground. And when they eventually sat down on opposite boulders to talk, the Bloodhound passed over a flask of hot coffee and let her drink a moment before continuing,'Well, I think it's for the best if I take it from the top for your sake, Spindly.... You saved my life on Panatha, and in one fell swoop, perhaps countless others of our sort. And for your efforts, I awarded you that golden signet on your pinky there, initiating your ascension to the rank and title of Magnarra - joining two male counterparts who hold the rank of Magnar respectively.', contributing to the Twi'Lek's attempts to find warmth so close to the atmosphere, all whilst silently gesturing for Ardana to keep hold of the flask for the same purpose.

'My comrades in death had come to reclaim me, and together, you, I an' my rival acted as one to prevail. You were wounded already when you fell tumbling into our little arena, but in the moment we tried and failed to kill my former-comrade - you still went the rest of the way.... Finishing what we couldn't.... Spindly, you might not hear this very often from me but - I think it is high-time you stopped doubting how incredible you are.'

The Woad then stood up from his boulder, pacing forth towards that which was occupied by the Twi'Lek, only to kneel and sit on the ground with his back leaning against the rock, lighting two cigarras and passing one to Ardana before he silently looked out across the cloudy, mountainous expanse of the Arrua Province to the south. Sat with his back to the cave, Thomas sat silently to himself, smoking as he thought on the implications of the decisions he would make in the following hours, as these plans would affect everyone in the tribe. Whether positively or not, Barran could only hope it was the former, as the Secret War would always find ways of collectively testing the Scar Hounds' patience and resolve alike, and Bloodhound knew that his comrades would need to be ready. Vorco needed to be ready, Ronar and Superious needed to be ready, the Darkhans needed to be ready, but most of all - Barran himself above all others.

'You're trusted here, you know this.... Respected, even! But with that being said, you must know there's more to fight for now.... Its time to give a chit without the conditioning of subservience getting in your way, your soul an' your voice are rising beyond that now.'

After all, complacency, apathy and ignorance were lethal in times like these.

'Find yourself, Spindly.... Reach into the depths o' your soul an' drag life to the surface, everyone believes in you now - I believe in you now.'

Armand Narrdrenn · Nov 12, 2022

Tags:

The Runt
Objective: The Climb

Armand didn't know if he was in Hell or not. He did know was that he was shivering, every muscle in his entire body had ached and he felt pain coming from the fresh gouging of his eye. He could see with his remaining eye, and with the other or what felt like another eye saw total darkness. The vision was different than what he had experienced before he seemed out of his element. How did he end up here was fighting in the front lines of the Second Great Hyperspace War only to be left behind and captured. He was brought before the Heathen Priests and for his defiance and offensive ways his own eye was plucked out and one of a Vong beast was shoved inside the bleeding socket. He wallowed for days in a dark cell on Exegol. Between bouts on consciousness he could hear voices call out his name, and then felt his feet drag against the black stone carried by creatures of a different sort. From then on he kept blacking out back and forth. The pain that had plagued him both physically and mentally had caused his body to feel numb.

When he awoke he could hear the loud voice of a madman. He could remember flashes of the man studying his Sword. Blackfang was an ancient Sith imbued sword said to have been wielded since the first Sith Lords had arrived on Korriban and brought to the colonization of Arkania. It was a cherished possession and remembered how the man dangled the sword in front of his face. The man mocked him before saying "That such weaklings don't deserve such a beauty of a blade." Before he passed out again now in the dark corner of a frozen cave with the man's voice and the howling of the frigid winds were of the only things to comfort him. Beyond the pain he was silently wishing he had stayed home, that he never joined the War and soon felt something. His anger was turning into something more, and that made him slowly stand from the makeshift cot in the corner of the cave. He saw a note next to him showing him a marker at the top of the mountain. The marker was made out to be the appearance of Blackfang. His fingers tightened on the piece of paper before him. Stuffing it into one of his pockets he slowly started to move away from the corner he was made to rest in, and towards the opening of the cave.

"When I get to the top of this.... Mountain." He paused as he poked his head out of the cave. The winds blasted his white hair around and he found himself squinting his one good eye in the face of the howling winds. He could see the peak of the mountain as he turned his head around. It was a long climb from where he was standing, but he was determined to reclaim his family sword, for it might be the only thing of his family remaining. He grabbed the blanket from the cot, and would proceed to fashion a scarf to protect his face while he would wrap the rest of the blanket around his body. "That cocky son of a murglak isn't going to win. When I get to him I'll run the blade right through him." He said gritting his teeth as with slow steps he made his way out of the cave. Using the paper as a guide amongst the howling of the winds his singular gaze remained fix at the top that seemed so little out of his reach. With his feet buried into feet of snow he would start to make the climb.

Thomas Barran · Nov 23, 2022

4TH POST

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags:

The Runt

Armand Narrdrenn

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 4

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

'My Lord, you're a madman! But we're here now! And the Matriarch is safe and sound!'

The Darkhans, first to act and first to arrive in the collective climb from the valley floor, were all clearly exhausted and very much downtrodden by the sickening gravity; but even then, Barran could see the fire in their eyes, and all five of his chosen Falchions looked all the hungrier for it. Clear as the sun-kissed morning over Mt. Cerberus itself, and in this the one-eyed Woad couldn't stop himself from smirking wide with appreciation as he kindly retorted,'My humble thanks, gentlemen! We will talk of your rewards soon! Oh, an' madman though I may be.... I'd say the lifestyle itself is much madder than I ever could be, though I'm sure we all know that by now.', to which he received kindly, appreciative smirks all-round in quick response.

'So what blood is it that covers your armour-pieces, brothers? But if you would rather know the blood on mine before you say, then fine.... See the weird colouring? Aye, blood of what I can only describe as an overgrown lizard of sorts. So what of it then? Who killed what on the way up? Rest your legs for now an' have at it, lads.... Don't mind the Magnarra, she's still wounded an' resting like youse are.'

'Ah, thanks.', the Chiss started, silently waving the others off to rest wherever they chose before turning to Barran's rock and sitting atop what had been used as a back-rest before. The sounds of dropping packs and unloaded mining equipment followed soon after, with occasional claps across their Warlord's back for having the bravery to attempt it on his own, and only then did Dreamer continue,'Well, we initially thought we were encountering lesser examples of the Ebruchised until they got - ah, chit! This fething gravity, man! Anyway - ah, so.... Until they got close enough, we had no way of knowing they were Moon Children. The babbling and the screams were all too close to the mark to believe otherwise.', taking out his water flask to drink as soon as the most important part of his response was covered.

'Whew.... Much better.... There was scores upon scores of them too, so no surprise really. Can't blame your Darkhans for getting Exegol flashbacks in such a situation, but it worked out in the end.... And when you're done with whatever you have in mind for the others, we need to talk. Just - not now, too tired to care about it in this state.... Just look at what we're doing for you here. Think on that for now, my Lord.'

Understanding his friend's predicament, Barran quietly gave his Darkhans their reprieve, choosing instead to say,'I understand, brother.... An' like I said to Ardana here, you can dispense with the formalities for now, you have earned your rest, you've all earned it - along with your collective right to call me brother as far as I see it. Tenfold, in fact.', before turning southward to point to the glorious view of the Arruan Mountain Range at sunrise, almost reward enough for the arduous journey the Darkhans had braved to make it so far together. However, much to their lack of insight into the mind of their Tribal Warlord, there was no way of knowing that the real reward awaited in the moments when the last pair of successful boots reached the summit, as even the title of Darkhan would find it's true purpose then.

The Bloodhound, grand though the amount of plans he had tucked away in the deepest recesses of his memory, had a grander plan yet still; a plan unlike any the Maw had ever seen before that point, a plan of which the one-eyed Woad had been planning in cautious silence for almost two years by then, such that would see the Mongrel's grandest vicarious ambitions realised in his chosen successor. But the time for caution was nigh on ending, and Barran needed to be quick if he was to have even a slight hope of being prepared for the worst, though he had all the right playing-pieces, all the right ideas to act on despite all the concerns he was raising in the others at the time.

'Thank you, Thomas.... But alas, I can only hope you know what you're doing by now. Exegol's likely out for our blood after that madness - but we're ready to follow to whatever end it is that you envision for us. Readier than ever now.'

Ronar · Nov 26, 2022

Location: Rapidly approaching the summit of Mount Cerberus
Equipment: Bloodreaver vibroaxe, climbing gear
Tags:

Thomas Barran

Armand Narrdrenn

Almost there...almost there...almost there...

The same mantra played in Ronar's head with every beat of his booted feet against the rocks. After days of journeying, of climbing and scaling, of huddling in caves and freezing crags, he had almost reached the summit. The journey had been one of the most challenging of his life, with the gravity and the elements proving a far greater challenge than he ever could have anticipated. Ronar found himself hating the winds and the rays of the sun, enemies he could not kill and allies he could not depend on. Mother Nature thought nothing of his axe, or the roars he sent to the heavens with every piercing gust.

The only thing that kept him going was the image of the Bloodhound, standing before him as Ronar reached the summit with victorious pride. Every challenge overcome was another notch in his belt, another chance to prove his worth as a warrior and as a Scar Hound. He had already achieved more in the last months than his own father had ever expected, not only by becoming a warlord, but earning the honor and respect of warriors who made his father look like a wobbling pup in comparison. His dreams were coming true, he just needed to keep going. Blood, sweat, and tears, as they say.

Pulling the wampa skin cloak tighter around himself, Ronar though of the Violet Wolves, left behind at the Scar Hound base elsewhere on the planet. Dawi had assured him that they would be fine, that he and Hornath would watch over Kellain and Tagash in the absence of their warlord. As much as Ronar hated to admit, he missed their presence. Worries for the fallen still haunted his mind, and also worries for the future of the Wolves. Tagash would no doubt recover, the fiery young Wolf would never allow something as simple as a broken spine to take him out of the fight. Kellain was another matter. The brain damage he had suffered was not necessarily something that could be fixed with machinery. No matter the outcome, the Wolves would be down one warrior.

Despite the pain, it was time for the alpha to seek another beta.

Looking up against the swirling snows, Ronar saw the summit of Mount Cerberus, plunging through the fog. He was almost there; no doubt he would reach it before nightfall. He put thoughts of the Wolves out of his mind and focused.

The Bloodhound was waiting.

Erion Justeene · Dec 9, 2022

Objective: Meet with The Bloodhound
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber, SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bike
Tags:

Ronar |

Keilara Kala'myr | @

The Mongrel |

Ardana Vorco |

The Runt

As the saying goes, "there is no such thing as a free lunch". Superious had slipped off a rock and into a thorny bush, looks like a particularly nasty species, with thumb-sized thorns. Shrugging the pain aside, he continued up towards the end goal. Besides if The Bloodhound didn't think he was worthy, he would not come here, he wouldn't be the first to ascend the mountain, obviously but he will traverse it.

Up and over. The Force changed direction and Superious realised he wasn't alone, something significant, hairy and ugly was tracking him, he is now something's prey item. He groaned, this was not going to be straightforward, the task was how to kill the thing and not get bitten. There are many high points but very much upwind, so he needs to stay downwind not to make himself an even bigger edible target than he was currently.

Igniting his lightsaber he waited in ambush, he wasn't going to flee like prey. His old master trained him to override his instinct to flee, which often got him a dose of lightning. So he waited, the moss squishy under his hands. Almost like a carpet, a very well-moistened carpet, he grumbled in frustration but alas nothing shall be easy, he knew this from day 0.

Waiting, still like a statue the Ubese Waited, until the quarry reached striking distance, so the fight began, it was mostly him getting flung into the flora and fungi. It hurt and still, Superious kept going, Lightsaber gouging out the rock as he swung.

Yet, with this stalemate, he can see where the scales converge on the beast's underbelly. Silly way to start the day, fighting with a monster on a mountain face, surrounded with slime mould, he disliked it greatly, that and artichokes.

Superious soon found himself in the beast's belly, the warm stickiness was overpowering and he needed to get away as soon as possible. He can feel the fluid seeping into his clothing and with a hefty swing with his Saber he cut the monster in two, and he went tumbling out covered in entrails.

<"UUURG!"> He snarled wiping his visor clean, plunging into a rock pool nearby to remove the wretched slime off him the best he could before Force-Jumping the rest of the way up, reaching the summit and the bloodhound.

His entrance was less than subtle by any means.

Ardana Vorco · Dec 14, 2022

Spindly
Warden of Hrjóstrugt IV, Magnarra and Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Objective: Return back to her Tribe
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
Tags:

Ronar |

Erion Justeene |

Armand Narrdrenn | Open

[ Last Survivors ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Spindly didn't like to show weakness, but even so the young Twi'lek woman was glad that the warlord had offered to sit down. Up here, in such high gravity with her injury, standing still was extremely painful. Of course, the woman would endure the pain if she had to, but she would have been happier if it was necessary on the battlefield, where War, Death and Rebirth could summon her. After they sat down, she took the coffee and sniffed the thermos.

She didn't remember ever drinking such a drink. I mean, yes, she drank, long, long ago, before the Scar Hounds, before the Maw, but she didn't remember that life for a very long time. Nor that she had drunk anything like that, even though the smell of coffee was quite familiar. The woman is used to warming herself with alcohol. This drink had a familiar smell, it made her feel so good, something far away, something she had already lost and didn't remember.

She tasted it, it was bitter, she spat it out and returned the thermos.

"This is awful!" she told him.

Spindly listened to the Bloodhound's story, she didn't remember saving the man's life, but she didn't think he was lying. Why would he? Magnarra? She? It was quite unimaginable. I mean, her big dream was to be like

The Mongrel , a great hero of the Maw who is feared by the galaxy. But she didn't feel she was ready for that. When the man held out a cigar to her, she just shook her head.

"I'm honoured that you think so, Warlord, but I don't feel like I'm ready for that. I have lost subordinates in most of my battles. First on Tython, most recently on Panatha. I don't feel like I'm ready for that yet." she said honestly.

She felt honoured, it was true, but she really didn't know if she was ready for this or not.

"I don't know what it's like to be a warlord or military leader and I'm not very good at it... of course it's my big dream to get the attention of War, Death and Rebirth like you or The Mongrel. But that's not today…"

She wanted to continue, but then the other group arrived, bringing the news that the Matriarch had been rescued. The Twi'lek woman sat still and considered the situation. Then she spoke at the end of the entire interlude, when the newly arrived group Darkhans also took their place.

"I want to improve first, to be better than I am now, before I get this title... I have no experience in military leadership either." she told him in the end. "I want to be the strength of the Scar Hounds Tribe, not its weakness."

Thomas Barran · Dec 30, 2022

5TH POST

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags:

The Runt

Armand Narrdrenn

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 5

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

'This is awful!'

A chuckle or two rang out among the small grouping approaching the summit, with some looking Barran's way as if to ask if it was fine to approach, but despite the small outbursts, it served to endear the others to their new superior in the comfort of her presence. The others, however, (with their Warlord included) would fall respectfully silent, seeing there was more that Ardana wished to discuss, understanding that she was well within her rights to talk as she saw fit. After all, the Tri-Lunars and the Darkhans had made it so, and all at the behest and encouragement of the Bloodhound, and after seeing that the rest of the tribe agreed with the final appointment to the Magnars' Clique, Thomas was more than assured the right choice had been made.

'Heh! I'll always be glad I don't need to drink that chit any more.... Better coffee on the Core Worlds though!'

And all the Woad needed to do by then, difficult though it would be, was to help the Twi'Lek understand the potential she unlocked with every leap of faith she dared to endeavour.

'I'm honoured that you think so, Warlord, but I don't feel like I'm ready for that. I have lost subordinates in most of my battles. First on Tython, most recently on Panatha. I don't feel like I'm ready for that yet.'

Holding his tongue, Barran held a hand up to briefly halt his subordinates, allowing Vorco to continue,'I don't know what it's like to be a warlord or military leader and I'm not very good at it... of course it's my big dream to get the attention of War, Death and Rebirth like you or The Mongrel. But that's not today…', uninterrupted, as was accorded of her increased high-standing among the Tri-Lunars and the Undying in particular. But the others eventually grew impatient, clearly arriving with news to bear, and clearly eager to end their climb once and for all, though all were still respectful enough to bow their heads in greeting for every gaze that would meet that of the Magnarra on approach. The news of the successful rescue of the Matriarch would help to shift to the mood to a more receptive atmosphere, serving to help convince Ardana that she was capable enough to lead without overloading her senses, as there were still wounds and injuries to consider in the process.

And yet, in looking upon the faces of his closest friends, the Bloodhound quickly remembered he had been praying to the Avatar of War for a while to watch over his Darkhans, something he had not dared endeavour to do since his first days after resurrections; and in noting the faces of all five surviving bodyguards, Barran couldn't help but believe it wasn't just the Avatar of Rebirth who was answering his prayers, compounded by the fact that their survival alone could have been perceived as a divine truth in it's own right.

'I want to improve first, to be better than I am now, before I get this title... I have no experience in military leadership either.'

The Bloodhound understand what the Magnarra was trying to say, and had often felt the same way in the years he was still just the Shriven One, wondering what it was that the Mongrel saw in him to warrant such praise and belief, but the time did come when he realised that there was more to these feelings of supposed unworthiness. After all, just as Ardana had shown in the preceding moments, Thomas had also expressed devotion to the cause and his comrades in turn, and in putting all before himself in the process of aiding the endeavours of the previous Warlord and tribal hierarchy alike, the real power had been found resonating from within. It was enough that it brought smiles to the lips of otherwise dour faces as the Five Falchions stared out to the mountainous backdrop beyond, reminding all of what they were fighting doggedly to see one day, darker though the days were getting for their sort by then.

'I want to be the strength of the Scar Hounds Tribe, not its weakness.'

And it wasn't just Barran himself who saw it, as in those moments, the resting Darkhans could see it too, something more that could be said of Vorco than of most who struggled to reach the mountain summit. But in the moment the Bloodhound replied,'As do I, even now.... An' believe it or not, we accord on all counts there, Spindly. All I've ever known is service to something greater than myself an' those around me, an' this sure as chit didn't change with the resurrection.... Even now, I serve - celestial though that servitude's nature may be.', the understanding was driven home with the utmost adherence to the honesty the Magnarra was due. The Twi'Lek was owed much and more of this from the Goidelic Human, and in these moments, the latter could understand the former's need of it as he had needed such revelations in the foggier-minded years he spent hammering away at the forge.

'And in all honesty, none of us are ready, though at least only in our current collective state, but its that particular urge to strive for glory that sets us apart from the other tribes of the Maw.'

Then after that brief moment of personal sincerity, Barran went on to share a contrastingly calm, silent moment of serenity with Vorco as the others looked on to the sunrise below, encouraging a serene mindset in the Magnarra by closing his own eyes and making a show of inhaling slowly through his nostrils, exhaling ever so slowly in his attempt to instil a calm reverie. But in the return of the cold-blue irises, the calm still couldn't conceal the constant fire that burned within, though it was expressed endearingly as Thomas continued,'You see not the artistry, the actual beauty of the ferocity you wield every time - but I do.... I have from the very moment you crested Mt. Geran with us on Tython. You're worthy in the eyes of the tribe, an' that should count for something at the very least.', bowing head slightly before a monstrous screech reverberated from somewhere downhill.

'You're damn right it should count for some-oooh.... What the- kark was that?'

The Marauders below were still fighting to reach the summit by that point of the faction-wide expedition, and regardless of whether it was in groups or solo, it was beginning to look like a great amount of them were making more than a little headway in their collective ascent. It wouldn't be long before all the right faces showed up, from the Cirihuts to the Scav Kings, from the Undying and the Tri-Lunar Clique to the Mongrel's cyborgs and Caz's Mineheel gang alike, so all that remained was to see who arrived first from the main throng - granting a quiet, introspective respite of which all the seven warriors at the top could enjoy together.

Even if it was only fated to last a while longer.

'Bear in mind, Spindly... Besides the Avatars, the Heathen Priests, the Tribe an' all the rest of it - we fight so we can enjoy the privilege of experiencing moments like these too. Helps in the long-run, as I'm sure you can see and hear it in our friends here.... Oh, jus' a moment, Warlord duties an' all that caper. Two secs-'

<"Climbers, this is the Bloodhound speaking.... I can hear ye now, ladies an' gents. No excuses now, especially not now I can hear the wailing of all the monsters standing in your path - SO TAKE YOUR COMRADES THE REST OF THE WAY!!!! SHOW ME THE STRENGTH OF TRUE WARRIORS!!!!">

Ronar · Jan 7, 2023

Location: The Summit of Mount Cerberus
Equipment: Bloodreaver vibroaxe, climbing gear
Tags:

Thomas Barran

Ardana Vorco

Finally.

The word rang in Ronar's head like the most glorious of symphonies, as his booted feet, so numb he could barely feel them, finally made the last step onto the summit of Mount Cerberus. A small part of him wanted to collapse, his goal accomplished, the mountain conquered, but he knew he could not. He had to find the Bloodhound, proclaim his success, and receive his reward. Clenching Bloodreaver in frozen fingers he pushed forward, just as the voice of the Bloodhound boomed from the other side of a cliff face.

<"Climbers, this is the Bloodhound speaking.... I can hear ye now, ladies an' gents. No excuses now, especially not now I can hear the wailing of all the monsters standing in your path - SO TAKE YOUR COMRADES THE REST OF THE WAY!!!! SHOW ME THE STRENGTH OF TRUE WARRIORS!!!!">

Oh, Ronar would show him strength. Coming around the face, he emerged in all the glory of a victorious warrior, clad in wampa pelt with fearsome axe in hand.

"Bloodhound! I am here!" he cried, striding forward to meet his fearless leader. Sweeping the pelt from his shoulders, and pulling the preserved head from his pack, he presented them in grand fashion.

"And I have brought a gift."

Thomas Barran · Jan 21, 2023

6TH POST

AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE

Tags:

Kyrel Ren

CLASHING SHADOWS I: FORTRESS OF POWER - PART 6

SUMMIT'S CLAW, MT. CERBERUS,
NORTH ARRUA PROVINCE, MAR'ZAMBUL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)

'Good to see you, Superious! Glad you could make it.... But now, I must attend to the Horde.'

Shaking the Magnar's hand, the Warlord then tilted his head toward the gathering mob of Marauders near the mouth of the cave at the summit, smiling for the first time in years, for the first time since the Mongrel approved of his title as,"The Bloodhound", so worthy a name to become successor to the legacy of the Scar Hounds. And it all culminated in a long, arduous trial, much like that of the climbers that week, all leading to the moment of chaotic triumph.

'Bloodhound! I am here!'

Barran was ready, even if the rest of the Maw weren't, but even then, dreams of Four Horsemen were keeping Thomas awake of late, led by the Horseman of Pestilence instead this time - with Thomas mounting a pale mare on the right flank.

'And I have brought a gift.'

'My thanks, Ronar. Glad you could make it.', the Woad replied, bowing his head with respect for all that the Lord of Wolves had endured to make it so far, let alone to endure Mt. Cerberus. Taking the head and passing to Dreamer with instructions to handle it with care, and stating intentions to have it adorn the hearth within the cave before turning back to Ronar to continue,'Now as for the cloak, I dare say the man who slew the beast ought to retain the honour of wearing it's pelt, for even my Lord of Wolves ought to display his dominance as a hunter in his own right.... Let your Warlord adorn your shoulders with it, in ceremony and brotherhood alike.', placing the cloak around the Magnar's shoulders and shaking his hand as the hand of the Ubese was shaken just moments before.

'But now, it is time for your Warlord to make history.... First, in addressing the Tribe, then right after, in addressing the Galaxy! Seeking raiders from every known corner - seeking war with all who wish not to answer with undying fealty!'

Then after a kindly, brotherly grasp of Ronar's shoulder, Thomas winked, and silently mouthed,"Watch - this!", before turning to the crowd gathering atop of the Summit's Claw plateau, extending arms out wide as he basked in the cheers and the adoration of all the Marauders who made it to the top.

'DID YE HEAR THAT, MY BELOVED BROTHERS AN' SISTERS?!?! DID YE HEAR WHAT I HAVE IN MIND?!?!'

More cheers from a mob galvanised by the clear intent of the Woad, more adoration in which the Bloodhound was quite happy to bask and immerse himself, but within moments Barran had gestured for silent calm so he could truly begin,'To all who made it this far, congratulations.... And thank you for standing with me - AS YOU STOOD WITH THE MONGREL BEFORE ME!!!! FOR THIS - YOU HAVE GRATITUDE AND PRIDE IN ABUNDANCE!!!! AN' FOR THIS, I GIVE MY ALL - FOR EVERY LAST MARAUDER I SEE STANDING BEFORE ME NOW!!!!', letting his deep, booming voice echo across the mountain as the Darkhans quietly set up the Holographic plinth behind him. Even then, despite the functions and the actions of those around him, all were hanging on his every word like those approaching the summit at the time, for none would want to miss the experience of being on the cusp of a truly great endeavour.

'AN' I MEAN EVERY - LAST - ONE O' YOU!!!! PROUD MARAUDERS TO THE LAST, THE SCAR HOUNDS YOU'VE BEEN ALL ALONG!!!!'

Or at least, on the cusp of an endeavour the Scar Hounds considered the greatest of all.

'SCAR HOUNDS!!!! HOLD YOUR WEAPONS HIGH - LET THE AVATARS SEE THE TOOLS OF A CYCLE'S COMPLETION!!!!'

Right on cue, the Holographic plinth lit up and set to broadcast the scene atop Mt. Cerberus, and when the Bloodhound turned to face it, all who would see the one-eyed menace would see the Marauders standing behind him, casting quite the impression on all the outlaws of the Galaxy. However, as for those who would watch on with fearful curiosity, the impression cast would land altogether differently in the minds of the Core-Worlders, Imperials, Sith, Jedi and Mandarlorians watching at the time, likely to clip and share the worst in the hopes it would save lives when it mattered most. Whether in fear for their own lives or the lives of others, it mattered very little by then, the existential dread would be felt sooner or later, seeing the piercing-blue irises and pinpoint pupils of the greatest threat they'd ever know - seeing in his eye the violence that awaited all who weren't prepared to face it.

To the many peoples of the Galaxy,
GREETINGS FROM MAR'ZAMBUL!!!!!

Some of you may know me as the Shriven One, others - the Bloodhound.... But in seeing my face, you will all know me to carry another name entirely.... And thus, it gladdens me to finally introduce myself as Lord Thomas Barran, Warden of Rhigar and Mar'Zambul, Warlord-Khan of the Scar Hounds - TRUE EXECUTORS OF THE DARK THREE!!!! WAR, DEATH AND REBIRTH ALIKE!!!!

And here I stand, on the cusp of my greatest, most-ambitious undertaking yet - but I need more destroyers to achieve success! I NEED MARAUDERS, I NEED RAIDERS, I NEED OUTLAWS AND PIRATES OF EVERY SORT!!!! I NEED THEM ALL TO WIPE THIS GALAXY CLEAN, TO CRUSH THIS NIGHTMARE WITH LASTING FINALITY!!!!

WE CAN END THIS CENTURIES-LONG CURSE TOGETHER!!!! PREVAILING - AS ONE!!!!

SO HEAR ME, DEAR BROTHERS AN' SISTERS!!!!
THE SITH, THE JEDI, THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS MUST PERISH!!!!

Trust me - better it be done by your hand than by that of a rival.... The Cosmos has suffered enough!

Ardana Vorco · Jan 22, 2023

Spindly
Warden of Hrjóstrugt IV, Magnarra and Marauder of the Scar Hounds Tribe

Objective: Return back to her Tribe
Location: Crucible's Sister, South Face of Mt. Cerberus - Fang of the Beast, North Arrua Province, Mar'Zambul
Equipment: 2x Geysa Hybrid Pistol | Assault Rifle | Armour and weapon (weapon is lightsaber resistant) || OPBC-01m
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