Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Asteroid Destruction | Hex below Ankhypt

[Primal Architect]

The Bryn'adûl | Asteroid Destruction | Hex below Ankhypt

​

On the edge of Bryn'adûl space, a strange phenomenon has been detected. An otherwise desolate and silent rock has lit up like a sun beam. A rogue facility of Bryn'adûl heretics has been exposed by the Tachael-Vemnak, a rogue group of scientists and a group of Shamans and Risen-Srael known as the Reborn-Drael have gotten hold of a sample of the bioweapon the Drael populace of Ylesia was exposed to.

Initial reports show that hey have not yet armed their heretical-technological warheads with the bioweapon yet. We must crush this rebellion before it can truly begin, take the asteroid facility - all across the Galaxy, it shall be known that the Draelvasier are not to be trifled with.

This group is small, weak. Be silent and swift and we will quell this heresey without incident.

Objective A - Breach
Tathra Khaeus leads a charge through the hangar bay of the heretic asteroid base. We will destroy these heretics, and take back what is ours. This station must be secured, we will find out all that they knew.

Objective B - Secure
Even though these bioweapons have not been armed, the warheads are still dangerous. Secure the warhead launch site on the top level of the facility; disarm the bombs and hold for further instruction.

Spoiler: Tag List

- Sethrak | Keldothera | Krarolk T'manu | Gorrge | Sarask Hiskt | Vertask | Shaylith | Primarch Drek'ma | Gordrak | Galak | Osam | Phantrx | Badar | Sylok'Vanari |

 

[Osam]

Objective B
Post 1

When he'd first heard the news, he had hardly believed it. The idea that heretics were present throughout the Bryn'adul was not a surprising notion, they had established systems to deal with the Tenebraks wherever they arose, and the Risen Major himself had participated in a number of operations against members of that accursed social caste. It was not uncommon for there to be heretics who stepped too far out of line to remain inconspicuous, and for them to suffer quickly at the hands of... whoever took care of such threats before they'd arisen to such a scale as the asteroid base.

Nevertheless, the news that Risen-Sraelvun were involved in these heretical plans was an affront. Had he not fought for all of them to prove their place as rightful heirs under the Titan in the same way as the Baedurin and Aeravalin? Had they not received positions of greater prominence and worth than they had ever known before? Their race reproduced quickly, and the Sraelvun, in particular, were quick to mature... was it possible that these were young Risen who knew nothing of what they had gained? He thought it unlikely... these were traitors not only to the Bryn'adul and the lofty ideologies it proposed but to him.

It might've been different if they'd been under the thumb of a Baedurin Tenebrak, but the reports had made it clear that they were dealing only with rogue Aeravalin and Risen... there was no reason for them to have been oppressed. Aeravalin were not so significantly stronger than themselves, and Osam felt confident that in a pitched fight, he could even slay one of the lithe members of their race. Furthermore, this didn't seem to be the sort of heresy wherein the few deemed it necessary to use whatever tools were available to accomplish their crusade -- that was understandable, they were simply overzealous. Instead, these few had packed missiles with vile contagions whose only purpose would be to slaughter members of their own species.

There was no excusing it. These were terrorists and extremists. They'd not stepped over a line, they'd leaped across it. As the Major prepared himself for boarding actions against the facility, waiting for their "vessel" to draw closer, he realized the threat they posed to everything he'd worked on, and devoted himself to their destruction.

 

[Galak]

Objective: B
Post: One
Tags: Osam

He'd fought for them too. He'd fought for the Risen to be where they deserved, had he been wrong? No. But just like his own kind, just like the Aeravalin there would be those who would misuse the opportunities given to them. His eyes shifted to Osam, he had seen the fire in Tathra's eyes when he'd been called to join this attack. He'd seen the anger, he wanted to burn them all down. Something inside the Emissary felt like he was going to get caught in the crossfire, or maybe more likely that Osam would. There would be plenty that saw the Risen differently now.

He walked to his friend, his thudding steps hardly masking his approach as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"None of us, none of the 10th Regiment see you any differently for this. We know who you are Osam, what you are. Before you're a Risen or a Sraelvun, you are Drael. You are kin. Just stay out of Tathra's way today, alright?"

The Brute looked over his shoulder, stepping closer to Osam.

"If there is flak to be had, let me deal with it. I endorsed the Risen, let him chew through me before you show yourself. Please, brother."

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: One
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |
Objective: A

He arrived at the corridor, at its end? The Chieftains personal quarters. He looked to his staff, raising it off the ground with a conscious thought not to announce his presence. No doubt as Primarch, he would have to answer for the actions of the tenabrak shamans aboard the asteroid. But there were so many other questions that plagued his mind.

How had they gotten hold of the infectious disease, they had destroyed it all when Emissary Galak had called for bombardment. It had been destroyed, wiped clean when the Gunboats scorched the earth for miles in every direction. One could see the burning crust of Ylesia from orbit. It was no secret a disaster had taken place there.

Drek’ma forced himself to move, shuffling down the corridor towards the door. What Tathra had done, done to the Shipmaster. He didn’t want that to happen to him, but he’d been loyal. Of course, it would not happen. Or so he told himself, forcibly calming his nerves as he opened the door.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: One
Objective: A
Tags: Primarch Drek'ma |

They had only just left the Fractured Axe and it’s heretical crew behind, the blood and brains still stained the sole and ankle of his right boot, the adrenaline still rushing through him after that dramatic display. Tathra was on board the Divine Brutality, his personal shuttlecraft preparing for launch. He was alone, hands grasping the edges of the marble armchair in his personal quarters. He needed time to think, time for anything at this point was a luxury.

Rings held around his eyes, from one security breach to another he ran around cleaning up the messes of the other Drael like a mother fawning over its half-dead cubs. He was exhausted, his energies were low. Had he dug himself deep with no way out? So many billions dead, so many destroyed in his warpath against those that had wronged him and the other unfortunates of the Galaxy. If these Drael could not stand without him to straighten their lines, all of his life's work would have been for nought.

Tathra let out a low sigh, settling down into the chair instead of standing over it. He looked to the side, eyes drawn by a mechanical growl that announced the shifting of metal and cogs, muscle and metal as the doorway to his personal quarters opened. He could smell the Primarch before he could hear him or see him.

“Primarch.”

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Two
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |
Objective: A

When he spoke, his voice seemed heavy and calloused, tired and weighed. It made the Primarch experience a level of discomfort he was not used to. One, he could not permit it to affect his faculties but indeed it was. Seeing the sire like this, it was new to him.

He felt shame of his own, oftentimes Shamans were a shining example of loyalty and rigid following to their beliefs, their tenets. Indeed he had thought himself well aware of the issues within the Shaman core, he’d been able to nip previous issues like Hrajlmak’Natok in the bud. Able to deal with issues as they came, but that seemed impossible now. As their territories grew, so did the strain on those at the top.

“Sire..” The Primarch introduced himself, yet only silence followed his words. His unwavering gaze remained on Tathra, voice placid even now. But he struggled to maintain it.

“I take full responsibility for what’s happening, the Shamans are my responsibility.” He stepped forward, forward and into the eyeline of the Chieftain.

There was no time for sulking.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Two
Objective: A
Tags: Primarch Drek'ma |

His fingers dug into the armrests of the chair; his eyes remained affixed on the wall, staring off into nothingness. Whilst he did dwell too long, that did not mean he wished to dally. He simply had no wish to speak with anyone whilst they waited, he had no interest in much of anything now. He had nothing to give to his people, the Draelvasier were alone in their feelings today. Today, he was focused on his own issues.

“I’m going to kill them all, Drek’ma.” He finally spoke, his throat dry and pained. Almost locked into his own fantasy rather than reality, but as it often was, one needed to act to make those dreams reality. Too much talk, too little action. The loss at Yurb echoed like a shockwave, carrying through the current across their future. He had to correct it, with victory.

His dreams were of a united and strong nation, one that did not cower over a few bumps in the long road towards true strength. But that would be virtually impossible with all these defectors. They needed to be crushed, if what he did on the Fracturated Axe wasn’t enough, this would be. He was going to rip and tear through as many heretics as he could. He didn’t care what they were or why, his patience had run thin hours ago.

“I’ll set out alone.” Tathra explained.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Three
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |
Objective: A

It seemed all the Titan could think of was letting loose. He didn’t necessarily understand the concept but understood contextually why it could be necessary. Dre’ma sighed, leaning on his staff. Hours of experience consoling and lecturing younger Shamans came to mind, but he did know how to apply that to Tathra or if he even could, or rather should.

For all his power, Tathra could tear him apart before he could even move this close. There was no real choice to be made here, other than to tread carefully.

“I’m not so sure that is wise, Sire.” Drek’ma folded his stub across his right forearm, looking to the wall Tathra was currently staring at. He had to be honest.

“I don’t believe this is rational. You have nothing to prove, Sire.” He didn’t want to say it, but it needed to be said.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Three
Objective: A
Tags: Primarch Drek'ma |

The Primarch was right, it was not wise. It was not rational. But, rationality wasn’t always part of faith. He had to reinstall a sense of fear, reverence. And often that required the irrational, feats of pure strength against the odds. He rose from his seat, small pieces of rock crushed into dust falling from the armrests as he stood. He finally looked away from the wall and to the Primarch.

"I have everything to prove."

He appreciated his concerns, he even understood them. But, Tathra disagreed and he didn’t even need the Primarch to agree. This was the way things were, he knew what was necessary. If he couldn’t trust his gut now, he would be no different than the doubters. He knew many Draelvasier, most if not almost all still held his word as law, as it should be. But, these defectors still needed to be made an example of regardless.

Just like Kol'beld.

“This is not a time for doubt, Primarch.” He placed a hand on the taller Aeravalin’s shoulder, looking at him.

“After all these years, now is the time that our faith in one and other and our faith in my leadership is most essential.”

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Four
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |
Objective: A

Maybe he was right, but even if he wasn’t there wasn’t much he could do. Even with the Ish’makra on his heels, the only person who could stop Tathra was Tathra. Regardless of what he could say. For many years, the Chieftain had lead them with honour and distinction.

Something that many younger Drael seemed to wish to ignore. A petty, foolish thing that lead to chaos such as this. He greatly disliked seeing his Chieftain this way, it made his heart burn with hate. But perhaps Tathra was right, perhaps what was required was a show of strength, if anyone knew - it was him.

“I will support you, whatever your decision; Sire.” The Primarch brought his Staff forward, bringing himself to one knee as he bowed his head in reverence.

“We are all, in awe of your grandeur. You lead, we will follow.” He meant every word, no matter what cowards would lose faith, the true Draelvasier would not.

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

​

Time: 11:33:41
Location: The Salazar, Brute Gunboat - Crowed Room, Floor.
Draelvasier Close: TBD

The screech lifted through the room as the metal device tore through the Draelvasier's skin. A grunt, no more than two years old suffering from internal bleeding from the previous bouts. Of course, in regular fashion this particular Sraelvun refused the help of others out of pride. Strength, while a key component of their society, had brought a hindrance along with it. Those that blindly followed the code were subject to fear, fear of being weak. Worse than that, they feared the perception of being weak even more. This made Sylok's job significantly harder. With Baedurin being the worst to deal with, in the event of surgical and forceful practices. Regardless, Sylok respected the code and in truth envied those capable of such feats with their physical prowess. Still, sometimes he questioned the lengths others would go, sometimes even dying out of battle for the sake of dying with honor. Sylok wouldn't allow it, regardless of the 27 other Draelvasier staring as he began the surgery.

He developed a small tool and scapel with the equipment left in a small locker on the east end, near the cockpit. The insertion cut deep and as another roar came, so did a threatening swing. Sylok was used to it and before the fist reached him, he cut deeper making the Sraelvun grunt wince in pain. His strength was stripped away, the pain threshold almost sending him into shock as his nervous receptors began to overload the body. A streak of dark red sprayed outward, the other Draelvasier peering over him as they readied for battle. It all happened too fast, so fast, Sylok almost forgot about the hours it took to reach the rogue facility. They had to be minutes out and the negligent grunt had to fall on the floor in agony. In truth, it was Sylok's calling, healing the weak & wounded. Only, while many thanked him after the act, lots of his own kind wanted nothing to do with him. Like an omen that walked among the fortunate, Sylok in truth was a sign of weakness. The physical distinctions as an Aeravalin, didn't compare to others and the only thing that was considered strong of his own...was his mind.

The timing of his cut was sloppy and the blood that began to spit outward rose concern. The Draelvasier usually, relied on archaic means of mending. With little to no advancement in Draevasier tech to make a surgery like this easier for Sylok. The force, wouldn't help. The wound and internal disruption was too massive, the best it would do is give the grunt an hour and that was being generous. The other Drael began to step closer as Sylok went deeper, his lengthy fingers reaching for the revealed metal pieces. His nails dug the first one out, then another. At this point one Baedurin leaned closer, his breath putrid with anticipation of the outcome. Sylok quickly responded with a swift motion to extract the largest piece causing the massive issue. He grabbed onto it, but when he went to rip it from the source nothing happened. The Sraelvun, bent upward and let out shrill that shook the foundation of the gunboat. His body slamming back down onto the floor, limp and unresponsive.

No.

It was the only thing that came to his mind. With haste, Sylok looked to the Baedurin. His white eyes like darts as the words escaped him. "Help me so your brother can live." The Baedurin grinned, contemplating what the Aeravalin asked of him. If the grunt was weak, why help at all? It was this exact mentality that was a disease to their kind, it needed to change. Sylok snapped again, "Damn it, Help! Pull this large piece out so I can suture it with my healing!"

The large Drael finally obliged and reached inside the open maw of skin and organs. To a stranger the feeling would have been foreign, but powerful. The feeling, at least for Sylok, never went away. In a quick and brutal effort, the large metal edge was dislodged and a bright light radiated from Sylok's hands. His arms began to strain and his muscles expanded as the force filtered through him. The young Drael gasped for air as he woke, but Sylok continued to treat the wound. The Baedurin that helped, looked down at the young Sraelvun grunt and cracked a smile. The Baedurin understood now, moments of weakness only existed if you let them.

Sylok eased the force into the wound before lifting his hands free of the task. His bottom hit the floor and he sighed. He looked at the brute that helped rip the invasive metal free and gave a nod. He knew there would be blood on this mission, but not of his own men.

Osam | Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma ​

 

[Keldothera]

Objective: A
Post: One
Tags: Tathra Khaeus | Osam | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma | Sylok'Vanari |

The spiked bullet stuck in her arm restricted her movement, but that wouldn't stop her. She forcefully pried the heretic baedurins arms apart, she thrust her weight to the left, quickly shifting to pin the arm under her forearm.

The Juggernaut launched into a series of punches directly into his dirty heretic face. She grunted, tearing the spike from her shoulder and jamming it into his eye-socket. He squealed, blood oozing from him as he went still. Kelda groaned, pushing through the pain as she rose from the tenabrak corpse.

Juggernaut against juggernaut, it'd become a slogging fest. But at the very least there weren't many, it was still mostly Shamans and Risen. A few Zealots too. The kukri swiped for her throat, she barely got to her feet in time as the Zealot switched to a reverse grip and thrust for her throat. She raised both arms, catching the arm and pushing the Kukri left and away.

Left foot forward, pulling with her weight and yanking the Zealot over her leg and down onto the ground. Frim grasp held his struggling arms in place as he dropped her knee into the chest, winding him and giving her enough momentum to slam the Kukri into his throat.

 

[Osam]

Objective B
Post 2

Perhaps some semblance of the inner conflict had bled through to the outside world because as he stood contemplating his past choices, he felt the tell-tale stomping of the Emissary. Had he come to retract his past support in a bid at retaining his respected position among the Baedurin and the Aeravalin? Osam wouldn't blame him if he wanted nothing at all to do with the Risen, especially since they'd seemingly implicated themselves by siding with such clear and despicable heresy.

Instead of the punishing hammer blows of condemnation, the words that fell from the Emissary's mouth were ones of empathy and comfort. He was assured that before he was Risen or Srael, he was a member of the race. A mighty and proud Draelvasier regardless of his sub-race. Something like a smile forced its way to his mouth, though it struggled to make itself known. A warning -- to avoid the gaze of the Titan, and any subsequent rage that might have fuelled him. There was wisdom in that... if Tathra decided to eliminate the Risen, there were very few who would step in to prevent him.

He needed to prove himself, to retain a positive image of the Risen Sraelvun. That meant that he needed to express certain savagery towards the heretics to fully express that he didn't even empathize with their plights. He needed to slaughter members of his kindred, because failing to do so meant that he was more like them than anyone else. "Thank you, Galak." He spoke in gratitude towards his trusted ally, disappointed in himself for ever doubting that the Baedurin would turn his back on the Major. "I'll prove my loyalty." He said, raising his trusted firearm, and giving it a once-over to ensure that it was loaded and ready for the coming conflict.

Galak

 

[Phantrx]

Post: One
Objective: B
Tags: Osam Galak

This objective was sort of daunting to Phantrx. It both fit him perfectly, and horribly. He'd spent his life learning to sneak around and assassinate from the shadows, being unable to be seen or sensed. This was the half of the objective he would have no problems with. But the other half - warhead defusal. Even the thought of it puzzled Phantrx. A professional assassin for the Draelvasier was being sent to defuse warheads? Mad.

Yet he still did what he said, and carried onwards, with his fellow Drael nearby. He had overheard Galak comforting and reassuring Osam, but Phantrx just turned his head to the floor. He'd never had any support like that in his life, but he'd learnt to live without it. Despite this, Phantrx still felt out of place, he was among some well known Drael, as some sort of obscure assassin taught to be a killer. He'd always wanted to be in this spot, and stay in this spot. But would he ever be recognised for anything good? Or was he just a cold-hearted killer lurking in the shadows? These were few of many questions that were unanswered in his mind - yet.

He lugged his arm onto the side he was sitting against, pushing himself up while he gripped his daggers. Phantrx was ready, that he was sure of. He knew he had to protect his kin, and that he would do. Placing his daggers each on one side, ready to be pulled out with the arrival of any disruption, he stood up and looked over to his fellow Drael. Narrowing his eyes.

He was ready...

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Four
Objective: A
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |

There was nothing left to be said, no words to be shared. The Chieftain would do as he must, but that did not mean the Primarch would not do the same. He would keep a careful distance, but a watchful eye.

He departed from Tathra's quarters, making his way to a Gunboat for transfer to the asteroid. But, he did not intend on leaving the Divine Brutality, instead he would gather with four Beast Masters. Esteemed warriors of his people, his kin and his most promising students of the way of mass-control.

This was personal.

They met in the Arak'mul. An orifice, a well of force energy that surged into the beast masters as across the asteroid the beasts of the Bryn'adul forces would be surged with energy, controlled by the massively powerful Primarch and his subservient underlings.

The beasts of the heretic Shamans would slowly be turned against them. The heretics would be spurned for their insult to his rule of the Shamans.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Four
Objective: A
Tags: Osam | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma | Sylok'Vanari | Keldothera |

The personal boarding craft ejected from the Divine Brutality, careening toward the asteroid. Tathra ran another scan of the facility, he was aiming for where they hadn't touched yet. He'd kill his way through to his own forces, these heretics would see he whom they had betrayed so eagerly. Tathra almost fantasized, he would look into their eyes and wish them a gruesome demise as he tore them from their mortal coil. His hands twitched, agitated. The trip took too long.

As he drew closer, the asteroid grew in size and consumed the entirety of his viewport. There was no turning back now, no way to call for reinforcements without being known as a coward, it was victory or death. The way it should be. The boarding craft cut through the rocky exterior, its cockpit shaking violently as the drilling exterior cut through until it reached a vacuum sealed corridor.

The boarding craft crawled to a stop, piercing the corridor wall as its drills shifted into; uncovering a transparent metal pod; the viewport coming apart as yellow glowing eyes stared out from the innards of the pod. The heretics below only seeming to realise who had arrived when the walls of the pod retracted.

 

[Osam]

Post 3
Objective B

Osam became acutely aware of the presence of another figure in their midst. True, there were several dozen persons here and there scattered about, but this one stood out to him, because he was not dressed in the fashion of the 10th, and his genealogy was clearly Aeravalin. Perhaps he was joining the company for the sake of supporting them throughout their operation, or perhaps Osam had mistaken the idea that the 10th alongside the Emissary would be infiltrating the base.

"I've been briefed on no plan." He spoke, returning his attention to Galak and away from the curious Aeravalin. It was true that whatever information he had gotten had ultimately been second-hand and more relevant to the general situation than to any strike they'd coordinated against the tenabraks. "If there are upper levels to the facility, myself and the Sraelvun are well-suited to reaching them." He offered, curling one of his claws as if to indicate the potential they possessed to climb beyond nearly any obstacle.

"I defer to you. I would like to know what your plan is for yourself and -- also for that Aeravalin. Is he a disarmer of the devices?"

Galak | Phantrx

 

[Kad]

Objective: B
Post: One
Tags: Osam | Galak |

The Zealot loaded his weapon, doing his best not to smile. He knew it, he'd known it since he had first laid eyes on that Risen-Srael. They'd foolishly given the Sraelvun scum a place of power, and now what had they done with it? They'd used it to usurp power. He was sure of it.

If this was to be caused by anything, it was the Risen-Srael. They were the true mutineers; the Zealot watched from afar, he saw 'the Risen', Osam. Their leader, no doubt he had a part to play in all of this.

"Seems like the Sraelvun forgot their place, huh Emissary? Mutiny, give them an inch and they'll take a mile." Gredak spoke, half-smirking. He was ready to kill some inferior scum. It'd be easy.

 

[Galak]

Objective: B
Post: Two
Tags: Osam | Phantrx | Kad |

Galak began system checks, listening as Osam spoke. A plan had been rushed, that was true. This was a sloppier operation, but it needed to be done. Those warheads could cause untold damage on any of their heavily populated planets. This had to be done, and fast.

"We're hitting the second to top level of the facility whilst a Grenadier specialist squad will disarm the bomb. Captain Pavium leads the Grenadier squad directly to the upper platform where the warheads are situated with the ZEALOTS acting as an honor guard. We are to rendevouz with the Grenadier squad and protect them whilst they disarm the bomb. Quick and easy." He explained, but he wasn't sure of it.

He wasn't sure of anything. Who was he trying to convince, Osam or himself? He didn't know. But things only grew worse as the Zealot Shadow Tenebris approached. He always hated the Sraelvun, especially the Risen-Srael.

A true cub in Skag's clothing if he'd ever saw one. Galak turned to him as he spoke, hands balled into fists.

"The mutiny is lead by the Shamans."

 

[Keldothera]

Objective: A
Post: Two
Tags: Osam | Tathra Khaeus | Krarolk T'manu | Kad | Galak | Phantrx |

The General rose as a Zealot thrust with a broken Glaive at her throat, Kelda stopped the spear with her hand; catching the blade between her fingers, blooding oozing down her gauntlet. She growled through gritted teeth, taking the Kukri in her hand and stabbing it into his knee, pushing the glaive's blade to the side as it nearly took one of her fingers.

When the Kukri entered the leg of the Zealot, Kelda yanked right, tearing through the Zealots kneecap and thrusting forward. The Zealot squealed, grasping its leg as it fell. Kelda crawled on top of the Zealot, punching its face into nothing. She rose, grasping a Risen-Srael from behind and kicking his leg out from under him, dropping them both to the ground and snapping his neck.

She spat, throwing his body aside as she took up a Kraker from his back; firing at the approaching enemies.

"Die you damn traitors!"