Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Outbreak at Ylesia

[Shaylith]

She'd done it. The creature before her writhed and spat as it fought against the restraints, blood from where its extra limbs had been before slowly pooling at its own feet. When the outbreak first happened, Shaylith was careful to stay away from large groups, isolating herself in the control suite and refusing entry to those she knew were infected. It was supposed to be a cure.. a vaccine.. She couldn't think about that now.

Hesitant at first, Shaylith would reach a bony claw out to the twisted Drael scooping a small amount of blood from its wound and making her way to a nearby console. It was after all just.. genetics. She had edited and synthesized genetics for most of her life, breeding new beasts of war for the Bryn.. and shaping her own form to something more practical. That was after all why she was here, experts on genetics was needed and she was one of the best available to them. She would smear the blood across a small panel, which would illuminate and begin scanning and sequencing the genetic sample. From everything she could tell the disease was spread through saliva into the blood system where it would be spread through the host's body and begin the mutation process.. but there were so many more unanswered questions. Did it continue to mutate? Or did it stop? What triggered it to stop? If there was a trigger, could it happen immediately before the first mutation had even occurred? She needed to know, a vaccine, a cure, anything that could end this threat. She needed to at least start by seeing how exactly the DNA was tampered with.

As the screen lit up she would hear a noise.. She could fight, but lacked any actual weapon and a hand to hand combat against these.. things was not going to end well. But.. there was no where to hide, especially with the length of her serpentine body. Her hand would bury itself in a control panel, ripping it from its hinges before reaching in and tearing off a pipe she deemed unimportant. It would give her the advantage but-

Her thoughts would be interrupted by the emergence of a Zealot Shadow. He would pause, glancing at the captured specimen and then to Shaylith brandishing a pipe like it would actually do something. "Who are you..?" he would demand "Shaylith.. Researcher here.-" she would gesture to the captured mutant "I'm trying to.. find a vaccine, a cure, I'm sequencing the genetics of-" She would get cut off by the Shadow "No time. Collect what you can and leave we've been deployed to destroy the facility." "You can't do that! My research! My equipment! I need this to work on a feasible vaccine!" If this imbecile of a Shadow was going to listen to her she'd need proof.. and that was going to take a while.

Vertask Krarolk T'manu Kad

 

[Kad]

Objective B
Post: Three
Tags: Krarolk T'manu | Vertask | Shaylith |
Equipment: Dual Shredders | Kukri |

He had to keep moving, the sooner to the control suite - the sooner they could get a handle on this situation. Unfortunately that meant he had to leave the safety of this ventilation area. Gredak kicked the grate out, extending both Shredders in front of himself as he dropped down into the corridor.

Gredak immediately opened fire, the red crystals darted through the air on tracking trajectories toward the approaching abominations, the torn forms shredded by the shrpanel-like explosion of the super-combine exploding crystals. Twisted limbs flying pas him. A infected savage drone jumped to the wall, to dodge his shots, the crystal shards curving and catching the wall as it leapt at him. Gredak dashed forward, sliding under the lunging form of the infected, turning on his side and firing from both shredders into the creatures back - killing it.

Three down, the population of this instillation to go. It wasn't far to the command suite now. Gredak reached the door, interfacing his gauntlet's stone operating piece with the console; identifying himself to get the door open. As the door slid open, he could see Addivar and some strange creature.

Gredak immediately raised his two Shredders in the direction of Shaylith.

"Shadow Tenebris, Addivar - what's the hold up? What is this thing?"

 

[Primal Architect]

ENGAGING: Gordrak | Primarch Drek'ma | Sylok'Vanari | Osam | Shaylith | Kad | Krarolk T'manu | Vertask |

WITHIN THE INSTILLATION:

Those inside the control suite would find their petty discussions silenced by a loud, rubbery thud. The walls would break, particular plates of metal torn apart as five large green and brown tentacles tore through the walls, each large enough to wrap themselves around one of the three Aeravalin present with its tail end. The five large tentacles would begin to attack the trio, swiping and slamming the areas they stood in.

On the edge of the facility, the Zealot's squads conversation would be interrupted by a horrendous screech, a doorway opening just ahead of them as twelve infected brutes would charge out and toward them.

OUTISDE THE INSTILLATION:

The forces of the Bryn'adûl cut through the infected like a knife through flesh, piercing into their lines with superior firepower and weaponry. However, the abomination of a Servitor was not felled so easily, even as the ballista shots carved into its flesh, the Servitor continued on - shrieking as it dove underground, its hide breaking apart as the sheer force of the ballista's thrust the Servitor to the ground, from its cracked hide - strange things awoke. Pulps and branch like tendrils broke free from the weakened carapace, pulps bleeding projectile acid all around it, melting infected and Drael alike as the Servitor violently mutated.

 

[Gordrak]

Post 3
Objective A - Containment


Pain. It coursed through Gordraks body as he wrenched his glaive free of an infected Baedurin. Somehow, Gordrak had found himself host to a brief moment of respite amidst the carnage. The section of trench he was stationed in originally was effectively done for. Secondary trenches behind the first existed and still held assuming the gunfire could be believed. That said, the one Gordrak had been in for the majority of the fight thus far was essentially devoid of any survivors. Some Brutes still lived and Gordrak himself was proof of this. Broken and mangled corpses littered the trench now, threatening to force the survivors out as ones space to maneuver dwindled. Two other Brutes approached Gordrak and took up spots on his left and right sides respectively. They were similarly run down in appearance like Gordrak. The three Brutes took a moment to look at one another before a deafening roar thundered across the quarantine zone.


" Damn. " Gordrak said to himself before the Brute on his left chimed in. " Servitor. " The Brute on his right said nothing as he tightened his grip on his glaive. The scale of the conflict had changed for the worse it seemed. As if emboldened by the Servitors cries, a cacophony of twisted screams assailed the field. Gordrak couldn't quite tell if it was the infected crying out in despair or perhaps it was a war-cry of their own. Regardless of the specifics, Gordrak and his fellow Brutes were about to be swamped again. Furthermore, mutated Baedurin were joining the waves in increasing amounts. That complicated things greatly. " We hold or we die. That's the end of it. " It was all Gordrak had to say as the other two Brutes slammed the bottoms of their glaives upon the ground in response. It was then that the three noticed the next wave approach.


Shadows loomed in a thick layer of fog and smoke just ahead of them. They stalked toward the three Brutes like vengeful apparitions. the disjointed and jerky movements of the fallen becoming more violent and quick as they drew closer. Gordrak could count several Baedurin and many, many drones. As the fallen Drael emerged, the Brute to Gordraks right finally spoke. " Seems fair to me. " The other Brute chuckled whilst Gordrak remained silent for a time. Finally, Gordrak clambered to the edge of the trench and climbed upward, meeting the gazes of the infected head on. Gordrak let loose a thunderous roar of his own, challenging the twisted things that stood before him. He needed not just his two allies, but all of the remaining Drael in the area to know of his defiance. He would fight these malformed monstrosities until the end.

 

[Sethrak]

He was being chased.

The dark corridor was silent except for Sethrak's heavy footsteps, masked breathing, and the echos from the creatures in the distance.

He had queations. What disease could possibly leave the Bryn injured in the state they were currently in? How could they be killed? He had sliced the arm off of one drone, and run another through with his Val-Shae spear. Neither had died. Why were the lights flicjering, or even out in some places? Most importantly, where was the Titan?

He had left the few Warlocks and Shamen sent to destroy the core of the virus in order to find Tathra. Now, he was regretting the choice. For the first time in his life, he feared his enemy. They weren't normal, they couldn't be predicted, and they apparently couldn't be killed.

The Bryn forces that Sethrak left for his quest either hadn't realized he was gone, or they were dead, as he had not yet been contacted by them. In other words, he was alone with these crazed Bryn.

It felt like he had run forever. Turn after turn he found himself more and more lost. He approached the next turn. Left or right? He chose right instinctively. He certainly turned right. Right into another infected. It was a big one, chunks were missing from its chest from the battle of Yurb. It was a fatal wound, but the infection somehow caused it to keep on.

How?


Sethrak shoved the undying Bryn away, and cut back the opposite way. It was a dead end, leading to a small room. He ran into the room and forced the door closed. It was surprisingly heavy, as the electric engine that would normally close it was powerless.

Inside the room, there was darkness. Absolute darkness. Drael sight was infrared, so a quick scan of the room revealed that there were no living creatures apart from Sethrak. A few warm spots were there, mostly where electricity would be as it pulsed. Whatever cut the electricity only severed the connection slightly, leaving bursts.

Furthermore, Sethrak sensed no life. He was alone then. Good. Now he needed to figure out a plan. He could call for help and likely be punished for his rogue actions. He could try to fight. He could run again, once he regained hi-

Something grasped his right shoulder and threw him down. He saw nothing, what was it!? Blindly he swung. The hit missed, hitting the wall and sparking as metal hit metal. Suddenly a blow was delivered to his chest, and he felt bones crack. Another hit there and he knew he'd die. Adrenaline soared through the warlock as he swung the spear again. This time, it hit, followed by red in his vision. Blood. It must have been an early victim of the infection that had lost most warmth. Perhaps it was an aeravalin like Sethrak, the agile Drael race that was ice cold, unlike the bigger, stronger Baedurin.

Nevertheless, Sethrak was in peril. The blood gave him a general idea of where to hit, but he was on the ground, and the wounded Drael wouldn't hesitate. Another blow was coming....

 

[Osam]

Post 4
Objective A

For all of the cunning plans that the Risen Major had devised in a short period of time, none of them had involved the Southeastern flank - the location where all of the supporting Baedurin Brutes who had been key to maintaining their own position - charging forward directly at the enemy forces. Osam had expected that Kereiokh Vraer would keep all of them within trenches proper, at least those they still held, and have them maintain defensive positions. Meanwhile, he had hoped to retrieve some manner of flammable liquid or explosive device in order to suppress and deter the enemy. Now, as the Brutes at their side began their forward assault, the Major had no choice but to join them.

With a valiant shriek, the hybrid rallied together the Risen and directed them with an outstretched hand towards the Brute forces. The Sraelvun were let free from the shackles of command for a few moments, and they hissed and shouted and roared with the fierce bestiality common among their kind. Nevertheless, they maintained some degree of distance between themselves and the infected, choosing to rely primarily upon their Spiker rifles to put down foes instead of letting them close. Under normal circumstances, they might've simply charged ahead and utilized melee weapons or attempted to consume the foe, but it was obvious that this was no ordinary enemy.

"Spill their blood! Stay with your squads!" He shouted, elbowing one of the Sraelvun near him to keep them close and focused on the battle at hand. If the Baedurin wished to charge, then the Sraelvun and their Risen companions would back them up.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

OBJECTIVE: B
POST: II
EQUIPMENT: IN SIGNATURE
LOCATION: DESCENT
TAGS: Kad | Vertask

With an earsplitting groan, door by the nearby landing burst open.
​

A large group of beings emerged, vaguely resembling Brutes. However, their deformities gave the Elites pause. Massive tumors on their skin glowed the same color as the fog that filled the room, and unnatural growths extended from their extremities. Most of their armor had been torn apart by the growths, with mere fragments hanging onto their skin. Letting out an inhuman cry, they charged.

"Stop those creatures!" yelled the Zealot Commander to the trio and the individual with them, pulling out his glaive as he lunged forwards.

The Elites took the initiative, pulling out their close-range weaponry and engaging the corrupted Brutes. With his glaive already imbued, it was not difficult for Krarolk to plunge the blade into their flesh. However, it did not penetrate as far as he expected. It sunk about a meter into a Brute's side before the skin itself ejected the blade, leaving a massive hole in its flesh. Still, it continued to stand and hobble forwards, its resilience exceeding that of any normal Bryn. The others had the same luck - It took a point-blank shot from Abvor's Shredders to knock down another, while their Commander struggled to pin down three. Still, even more creatures rushed forwards.

"These things are too durable!" replied Krarolk as he blocked an infected Brute's fist with the shaft of his glaive, before thrusting it into its chest. "If we want to get to the source of this before it gets any worse, we can't spend any more time up here!"

"Adding on to Elite Krarolk's point..." continued Abvor, hurling an infected Brute at two others, "We should jump down this staircase and then run down to the objective before those heretical things catch up."

"We don't have time to debate this, let's jump now!" concluded the Zealot Commander, retreating as another half dozen Brutes emerged from the doorway.

With the stairwell around them breaking apart under their combined weight, the Zealots had no better choice. Krarolk grabbed the fourth member of their party and together the entire group ran to the open center of the stairwell and leapt over the railing. Up above, the Brutes stilled, staring down at the group.

As the group continued their free-fall, searching for a suitable landing spot, the Brutes watched silently. Then, they ran downwards.

 

[Sethrak]

Post: 2
Objective: Went Rogue, trying to save Tathra.
Tags: In the post.

The blow landed, but not on his chest. This time, it was his leg. The previous blow had cracked his ribs, and this one easily snapped the beaten Warlock's leg. He couldn't move it from the knee down. At first he felt nothing, then a wave of burning pain seared through the muscular leg. Of any injury he had suffered, this was the worst.

Between the noise involuntarily leaving his mouth, and the sound of the crazed infected trying to kill him, Sethrak didn't notice the rumble of battle between Krarolk T'manu 's squad and the infected half way across the building. If he had, perhaps he would have thought to call out to them. Instead, he focused as hard as he could. Everything slowed down. His invisible foe then fell back, catching fire as he was hit by a burst of lightning. The creature was either too far gone to react, or, more likely, the power of a desperate Bryn Warlock's lightning was too powerful and too fast for the being to react. Either way, it worked.

The infected Drael tried to lunge forward, but the charred flesh and now crispy muscles failed it, as it collapsed in a smoking heap of burnt... matter. Yes, matter, as there was little flesh left. What hadn't been taken by the battle if Yurb was now gone from the intense heat.

Sethrak knew he needed to get up before the adrenaline wore off, causing his wounds to affect him. With a grunt, he forced himself up, falling immediately as the pain flared. He needed to get up... As for what he'd do after that? His options were limited. Running wasn't an option now, and any fight would be difficult without the use of one leg, and broken ribs. He would need the force. Perhaps it was weak to use the force to allow oneself to carry on, but in the young warlock's mind it was a symbol of strength to be able to command something so strong to do his will, and that was exactly what he would say to any who question him.

Despite all that had transpired, his goal was still clear in his mind: Find Tathra. At this point, there was nothing that could prevent him from achieving it, but only if he got up NOW.

This time he was ready. Bracing for the pain, he got up, using his spear as a crutch. It hurt, no amount of preparation could change that, but he wasn't surprised. He bit down, and stood still as the pain slowly eased off. With that, he limped for the door.

 

[Shaylith]

"As I was just telling your friend I am Shaylith-" she would get cut off as the massive tentacles would rip into the room. Ducking away from the closest one Shaylith would growl, cursing in her mind as she regretted not keeping a weapon on her at all times. How many times did she have to be trapped by who knows what before she started carrying around a small arsenal? Hopefully she would learn her lesson this time. What exactly were these tentacles attached too? They seemed too large to just be a mutated drone.. There were so many unanswered questions.

"I need my research! For the vaccine!" She'd shout at the newcomer, hoping that he would help regain control of the room so she could at the very least salvage what she could from the computers. As a tentacle lashes towards her she would drop to the floor, slithering a few feet away with lightning speed before regaining her composure. "Pass me a weapon! Anything!" She'd call out desperately, the thought of Kad packing up and leaving her slowly creeping into her mind.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: A
Post: Three
Tags: Kereiokh Vraer | Galak | Primal Architect | Gordrak | Sylok'Vanari |

"Focus fire on the dredge!" The Primarch ordered, turning away from the control tablet as he allowed the Siege Towers operators to take over whilst he directed his attention elsewhere. He could not regain control of the infected Servitor, but he had his own force to bring to bear. Drek'ma contacted the Emissary, they have to clear the area.

"Galak, evacuate the vicinity of the hostile Servitor." Drek'ma turned his attention to their own creatures, the Servitor would only have one real match if it went underground, and that was their own Servitor. The infected Servitor would cripple their fortifications if it travelled fully underground. They had to control the battlefield. But he could not do it alone.

"Keep the Servitor above ground, whatever you have to do, keep its attention away from our fortifications!" That call went out to whoever was listening in on their battlenet frequencies close to the infected Servitor.

Now, his attention was placed elsewhere. Drek'ma directed all of his energies to their Serivitor, urging the great serpent to traverse the battlefield as quickly as it could. The ground rumbled and shook as it passed underneath. They would have to keep the infected beast above ground just a few more seconds. Then, he would take the plunge.

 

[Osam]

Post 5
Objective A

There was more rumbling under his feet. Clearly, whatever was occurring on the other side of the battle involved sizable beings. The immediate thought was that one of the Draelvasier was controlling a Servitor to wreak havoc on the lines of the infected beings, but he wasn't entirely certain. Was it possible that there was a hostile entity of such tremendous size that it was capable of being felt in tremors across the battleground? Surely if there was, it would need to be one of the beasts that they had manufactured for such a purpose. The idea of their own weapons being turned against them made Osam's stomach churn, especially when he got a mental image of a Draeyde swarm with no inclination towards obedience.

The Risen Major was roused from his thoughts by another wave of infected beings streaming towards him. While he had commanded that the Sraelvun under his command stay close together, he wasn't certain that their camaraderie alone would be enough to prevent the encroaching wave. Nevertheless, they would provide much-needed firepower for the Brutes leading the way, and at least weaken the enemy forces before they closed in enough to make gunfire nigh impossible.

With the jab of his finger, Osam directed his squad towards a pack of hostiles, setting them aside with the simple gesture from the wave in its totality. There was a barked command to fire, and several Spiker rounds instantly launched out, blowing chunks into the foe with both precision and exquisite timing. While the Drones suffered in sheer ability and strength as compared to their peers, their subservience and obedience to command made them experts at such timed assaults. Little could stand in the way of multiple Spiker rounds firing at the same second, and while the infected were resilient, they were no exception.

 

[Sethrak]

Post: 3
Objective: Went rogue, trying to find the Titan.
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

Even opening the door had been difficult. Now, the wounded Warlock faced two infected. Both had been drones, and both mindlessly ran toward Sethrak. He had one free arm, and one working leg. His chest wound reduced the power he could put in a blow, and obviously his mobility was hindered by his leg. But he was a Bryn. A conquerer and savior of the galaxy. He had seen several battles, and had conquered many foes. This was no different.

He struck the drone to his right with a blast of lightning, slowing it and weakening the skin. The other drone was close now. Too close. Sethrak tried to move right, but lost his footing, falling to a knee as the drone entered arm's reach. The warlock dropped his other leg, and put his hands on the ground as the drone tripped over his body.

Sethrak wouldn't be able to get up, before the first drone reached him. He took his spear and swiped, cutting through one of the drone's legs. There wasn't enough power in the blow to cut the other leg, but one was enough: The infected fell, howling in a mindless rage.

The three Bryn'Adûl laid on the ground, and Sethrak wondered for a mere second what these drones had been through. Had they fought alongside him at battles like Yurb? Did they subconsciously know what was happening, unable to control their own bodies? Sethrak felt pity. Not like the pity he had felt in previous battles, where he could reassure himself that his actions were merciful and his foes were weak. This time he knew his foes weren't weak. They had been brothers, even if he hadn't known them, for were the Bryn not all from the Titan's DNA? It was only the knowledge that these Bryn were sick, and too weak to control themselves, that he found the strength to kill them.

But then an idea, one of many in the Warlock's short life, appeared in his head. In battle, Warlocks sometimes commanded beasts, and weaker troops by dominating their minds. These drones were being commanded, but could he overpower the infection?

He focused, allowing some pain to escape his mental barrier so he could concentrate on the drones. Searching, deeper, deeper, deeper. There. He found the mind of one drone. He was being blocked out, he sensed the mind, but it was suppressed, almost nonexistent, covered in a shroud of darkness.

The only movement present in the deep, dark abyss was a pulsing. Steady, concentrated. He did not recognize it. Most living creatures had chaotic minds, thousands of thoughts and commands every second, from breathing to speaking. They were like shooting stars, flashing across Sethrak's vision, or at least that's how he had seen them.

This was similar, but slower, and it was the only action in the mind. Whatever it was, it had to be the source of the mindless attacks. Sethrak first tried to stop the beating, an action that he would normally use to stun an enemy or creature's body. His efforts were to no avail.

This time, he tried to mimic it. Every three seconds he ordered the creature to cease all actions. This time, he found that the drone would stop trying to get up, and fall back down, but only for seconds before the creature resumed the effort. It was an effective stun, perhaps it'd give him time to attack if he needed, but it still didn't free the Drael.

He couldn't invade the mind much longer. He had one last attempt. He copied the pulse, but instead of commanding as the pulse beat, he commanded the creature immediately after the pulse.

As he did, the drone screeched out in pain, shaking. Sethrak's own mind was bombarded with fear, and pain. He was sensing the drone's own feelings. It WAS alive, but it wasn't alive by it's own strength. The infection forced the body to live on. If there was no infection, the drone's body would have shut down long before now.

Perhaps the martyr-like tendencies of the drones made the virus more effective than it already was? Either way, there was no saving or commanding the infected. They needed to be exterminated. It was the only mercy, and the only option.

 

[Kad]

Objective B
Post: Four
Tags: Primal Architect | Krarolk T'manu | Vertask | Shaylith |
Equipment: Dual Shredders | Kukri |

Before the Shadow could react, tendrils tore through the walls; tendrils several times the size of a rhivak lurched out from all corners of the room, they were coming for them. Gredak's mind wasn't focused on anything but his own survival now, eyes wide as the strange arms of flesh reached for him. The Zealot raised his dual shredders, firing immediately into the closest tendril with both guns. The flesh was obliterated as it came for him, a ripple of explosions destroying its reach as more of it came again and again.

He ducked to the side, dodging it as it came for him. He had to be efficient or he'd be out of crystal ammunition quicker than he could destroy these things. He aimed for the upper-length of the tendril as it passed him, it'd be smarter to sever it.

Gredak aimed and fired, blasting at part of the tendril until the majority of it came loose, falling limp onto the ground with a slushy thump.

 

[Primal Architect]

ENGAGING: Shaylith | Kad | Krarolk T'manu | Vertask | Primarch Drek'ma | Galak | Gordrak | Kereiokh Vraer | Osam | Sethrak | Sylok'Vanari |

WITHIN THE INSTILLATION:

As one of the tendrils fell severed, Addivar turned his weapon on another - finding his rifle far less effective than the Shredders wielded by his fellow Shadow. They grew more violent, angered by the lost of one of the five tendrils. One slammed in place, forcing him to leap to the side as another coiled itself around his lower torso. Addivar gasped in pain, feeling his organs and bones tighten, his eyes widened; pain streaking through him as he raised his arm, throwing the Spike Rifle toward Shaylith as he stabbed at the tendril with his Kukri.

A valiant, but futile effort.

Something deep within the facility howled, a gargantuan creature that dwarfed the sounds of the Servitor outside. The tendril whiplashed against one of the walls, recoiling as it slammed Addivar into the wall, his body exploding into scraps of armour and flesh all across the room and consoles as all but two of the tendrils retracted.

ALL ACROSS THE INSTALLATION AND ITS EXTERIOR:

Something, deep inside the facility has transformed its lower sections into something else entirely, deep beneath the dirt and the rock surface of this world, something churns in the deep.

Something wishes to be free.

 

[Galak]

Post: Three
Objective: A - Contain
Location: The Thick of It - North section of the entrenched forces
Tags: Kereiokh Vraer | Gordrak | Sylok'Vanari | Osam | Sethrak | Primarch Drek'ma |

The ground was layered thick was bodies, both of his own and the infected creatures. The Phalanx was broken, lines of corpses dotted the spaces between them. Galak was almost alone, bodies breaking up his view of the others. The Dredge slowly approached, bolts flew past and overhead as Galak slowly backed up, his turret blasting away at the thick carapace of the Dredge legs. It was to no effect, small arms fire would do nothing to these massive creatures.

Galak longed for fighting something smaller.. more tangible. At most the turret kept them at bay, they couldn't move much without creating gaps in their armour for him to shoot though. Problem was, there was more than one. Galak felt the sweat on his back, quickly swapping from Dredge to Dredge as they slowly inched closer to crush him. He was getting low on rounds, only thirty-five left.

He looked to his side, he had three drums left - not enough to kill one of these things. He fired the last thirty or so spikes inside of a few seconds at one in particular, allowing the one on his right to get dangerously close. Galak backed up two steps, reclining onto one knee as he took another drum, detaching the old one and locking the fresh drum into place. The right Dredge was only a second or so away, he could hear it gnawing, half alive and hungry for his flesh. Galak held the turret by its barrel handle in one hand, taking an impact grenade from his belt, priming it.

"Bring it, undead runt!" Galak growled waiting for the last moment as the Dredge raised one of its claws and thrust down into the ground, Galak leapt forward; getting in front of the leg as it stabbed into the ground; the Brute Emissary turned on his heel, throwing the impact grenade at the leg as a thick layered of instally hardened cement formed around the clawed leg - locking it into place.

The Brute turned to his adversary with a grin that lusted for blood.

"Goodnight."

Galak took the turret into both hands, holding the chain turret by the hip as he opened fire; a thundering blast exploding from his turret as hundreds of spike rounds blasted apart the Dredge's ugly face as the rest of its free legs clawed around him. Closer and closer, Galak stepped as the Dredge desperately pulled away. He turned the turret upward, firing at the thinnest point of the Dregdes stuck leg, blasting it apart as the creature flung itself back - falling limp, its face and torso shredder by the turret fire.

Victory, was unfortunately temporary - the Dredge on his left struck down with its claw; knocking the turret from his grasp as scraping the length of his right arm - throwing Galak to the ground. As the creature raised its clawed legs, the Ra'mak reinforcements he'd called for finally arrived, their massive beams blasting apart the Dregde as its legs fell loosely around the Emissary.

Then he heard it, felt it. The rumbling, everything - and the call for retreat from the Primarch. He did not intend on arguing.

 

[Sethrak]

Post 4
Objective: Rogue
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

Sethrak finished the two grunts and continued his search for the Titan. He was humbled by his injuries, yet empowered with the knowledge he had acquired. He no longer feared the infected, they are killable, they are stunnable, and Sethrak had killed three of them.

It was this moment that the Warlock heard the battle. It was closer than he had imagined. The shooting seemed to never cease, there was shouting, several violent vibrations that made the whole facility shake, and the extremely familiar voice of the Primarch ordering a retreat.

So.. The Bryn were losing. For once in the lifetime of the Bryn, brute force was mirrored, and the Drael couldn't beat it. The warlock found it ironic that the Bryn'Adul could beat other, but not themselves. He filed it away, should it ever be needed.

Sethrak now faced a fork in the road. His brothers were dying, beaten by an alien foe. Sethrak knew how to stun the infected. He could help in the battle to a great extent. Yet, he was so close to finding Tathra and the source of the infection. Surely he could save more by killing the source, but what if the source killed him? What if the Titan was compromised? Sethrak could not beat him and he knew it, even if he was fully healed and supported by the force. On the other hand.. The ability to stun one infected at a time was meaningless, and could the others learn the ability as he had? Not all Drael had the force, and those that did were different. They didn't all have the same understanding, and what Sethrak sees in a mind is different from what another would see. If he joined the fight and they lost, it was over. If he fought the source, perhaps he could save the others, or buy them time, or maybe they'd be successful even if Sethrak failed.

He had never made such a decision. So many Drael lives at stake, and so many possibilities. He chose to find Tathra.

The brave, or foolish Warlock made his way to the next hall. He felt like he was starting to understand the layout of the facility, but only slightly. It was more of a gut feeling, something, or someone was drawing him toward it. But he knew not what it was. Was it just a synthetic sense of confidence? Was it the force? He couldn't tell. He only knew that with each limp, someone was dying, be it a Drael, the Titan, or himself. Time was the true enemy.

 

[Osam]

Post 6
Objective A

All beings feared. It was a mechanism that had been impressed upon many of them since their conception, a primordial survival technique by which biological and -- presumably given the breadth of coding that usually went into them -- mechanical entities sustained their existence. Some fears were more pertinent than others. A youth may possess a fear of the dark indicating a greater misconception of what manner of abomination might lurk within the inky blackness. Others of greater maturity were haunted by the specter of failure and the subsequent disinclination of their peers towards association or support.

Loud noises from all around, the rumbling under the crust of a world -- these things were of such great magnitude that they ought to have wrought fear in beings that might've professed only an inclination towards terror of particular origins. Yet, even as Osam looked upon his foe and felt the Spiker rifle in his hands jolt and buck, the recoil of the tremendous projectile being launched causing such forceful momentum... he knew that they were unafraid. He could see into their soulless eyes, not even quite like wild beasts in their mental capacity, but more akin to something else. Something alien and unnatural.

The infected Sraelvun -- for it had once been a member of the drone subspecies -- watched without trepidation or coherence as the superheated flechette soared through the air towards it, pierced through its cranium, and incinerated the grey matter roiling about its skull even as it was shattered into chunks and the mixture of visceral solids and rapidly evaporating liquids were plastered upon a backdrop of reinforcing flesh; there were always more to fill the gap.

Osam felt sickened by their presence, by the facsimile of consciousness they represented, by the fearlessness they displayed even in the face of extermination. He felt fear when he saw them rush to fill the place of their fallen comrade, and felt fear when they caught flechettes just as quickly as their kindred, undeterred, and unpausing in their raging lust for violence. More than even these, however, he felt the tremors as something titanic awoke beneath them, and he felt fear that whatever was coming from the superstructure's depths was possessed of these same unnatural qualities, and yet amplified to such a point as to be unstoppable.

If his body hadn't given way to muscle-memory in the fever pitch of battle, he might've ordered a retreat, but as it was, he continued his gruesome work in a panic.

 

[Shaylith]

Glancing around the room in a panic, Shaylith would quickly realize that she wasn't getting a weapon and there was no time to try to make one. So, she would take the only option available to her and rush towards the door, she had to get out of the facility. Diving to the ground as a tentacle flies over her head, Shaylith would slither and crawl her way to the nearest door at lightning speeds, going to pry the door open before calling out to the two Shadows only to see one explode into a red mist of viscera and gore. "Hurry! We must flee!" She would call to the remaining survivor as horrors begin to seep into her mind as to what could possibly have grown in the facility, and so quickly!

Without looking back Shaylith would dart away from the door, through memorized corridors and begin making her escape. She could remember the data.. or start new tests with more safety procedures.. what mattered now was getting out of the facility before what ever monster lived beneath it began to tear the thing pieces with her inside.

Kad

 

[Gordrak]

Post 4
Objective A - Containment
Tags: Galak


" This ones bigger. " Gordrak spat as he avoided the now malformed appendage of a brute. This particular brute was large, larger than Gordrak even. Gordrak hacked at it with his glaive in a bid to keep its attention. It worked better than expected. Meanwhile, Gordraks two companions exploited that fact. " I think it likes you. " One of the uninfected Brutes managed in reply. The other said nothing as he delivered pin point strikes to the joints. The infected beast spun around, nearly taking the head off of the brute going for its legs. Thankfully for the trio, their strikes were beginning to take effect. The beast was losing its ability to move unhindered and the three noticed this. " About time. " Gordrak was the first to move as the beast had put its back to him. He thrust his glaive into the creatures right leg. A sickening crack could be heard as Gordrak ran the blade deep and rent both its chitinous hide and bone. Wrenching his blade to the right, Gordrak severed the beasts leg. As it fell, the other two brutes wordlessly leapt into action. Their actions were entirely in sync with Gordraks own. The beast fell onto its ruined stump and the two brutes in front of it charged, slamming it onto its back. This action was not without effort however as the two brutes recoiled from the impact.



With the beast on its back, each of the three surged forward and grabbed onto one of its remaining limbs. Once they had done so, they pulled. They pulled as hard as they could in fact. A disgustingly wet tearing soon made itself audible before giving way to satisfying crunch. Soon after, the three tore its remaining limbs off. Exhausted, The three gathered off to the side and looked one another over briefly. They were all beaten and battered but they remained unbroken. For now anyway. They had heard the rumblings of something catastrophic happening elsewhere. Gordrak believed that whatever was going on had given them their reprieve. Simply put, the infected were probably busy elsewhere. Gordraks trench had fallen anyway. Satisfied that they were all ready to continue, the three advanced deeper into the Chaos. As they advanced, the three eventually came upon a Brute Captain in the process of slaying a dredge. Having since long abandoned their ranged weapons, the trio of Brute minors advanced to assist their captain though they arrived too late. The captain had slayed one of the beasts and after being set upon by another, was spared a presumably violent death by Ra'mak reinforcement.



Gordrak and his two fellow minors quickly approached the Captain. One of the other two went to speak only to be silenced by a snarl coming from Gordrak. " Our trench fell. We're all that's left. " Gordrak said bluntly. There wasn't any time for detail. After Gordrak spoke, the three remained silent and awaited a command.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: One
Objective: Escape
Tags: Sethrak

Eyes shifted, weights lifted and a body woke from the old slumber. Old bones ached, twisting against new and hot flesh but not his own. Cold plate churned against the humid wetness that choked him. Eyelids reluctantly opened, revealing the flesh-worn depths of what seemed most similar as some form of bridge, of ship. Restrained arms gave way to their captors, strange and bulbous tendrils tightening in response to his movement. He was a captive, but of what and how he did not know. His last memories were of, smothering and something movement in the dark. Grendrada had been torn apart before his very eyes, he could still taste the blood in his mouth. Tathra groaned weakly, not yet fully conscious and aware but familiar sounds rocked him from his synthetically educed slumber.

Battle.

Battle far above and beyond, he was underground. Perhaps, still in the instillation. But it was in no shape or form he recognised, his muscles cried like old oak branches; straining to keep himself upright as he looked about. Familiar pieces came to view as he studied the room, his intuitions were correct. This was indeed the bridge of a Conquester, one docked inside of the installations larger hangars. But it had been changed, morphed. Whatever Grendrada had unleashed, it was intelligent and that meant it was a threat. Anxious panic followed that realisation as he connected the dots in his head, battle - something unleashed. Overhead, the Bryn'adul were no doubt fighting whatever -this- was.

Some modicum of strength returned, the Titan attempting to pry himself free. Something pulled back, a neural link supressed his own control; a native hivemind of seemingly of thousand webbed thoughts wrought havoc in his head.

"WRAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"