Dominion &nbsp; The Bryn&#039;adûl | The Savage Blur that Took Sriluur

Kyrim Tenebris |

Kad /

Kad · May 2, 2020

Objective B - Planetside
Tags: TBD
Post: One

The Orkale gunship delivered the Zealot squad to the planet surface. Fires already consuming the larger satellites of the military airbase. With their communications cut off, the neighbouring forces would be unable to call for help due to the disruptions of their own equipment by Debauchers. The Elite Zealot moved in to the facility, alone with rifle in hand.

Terror and panic filled every corridor as Weequay soldiers ran from room to room, some with weapons - plenty without. Gredak moved slowly through the corridors, his Spike Rifle raised as every time someone passed him they found a Spike in their dome. Skulls cracked, brown leathery flesh torn apart as the Zealot Elite cut through them like nothing.

His Kukri used minimally, one waited around a corridor, striking him with a metal bar. The Zealot ducked under the strike, his off-hand quickly taking the Kukri from his thigh and slashing open the Weequay's gut. Their blood and organs weren't like a humans, it was like half-cooked meat lathered in oil. It was disgusting, especially when you were surrounded by it. The oily black blood splattered over the horned carapace of his bronze chest armour.

Sarask Hiskt · May 3, 2020

Objective A – Space Station

Tags:

Post: One

It was within one of many means of transport or fighters that Sarask sat in. Careening through its blasterfire. While most of the other ships were off facing one side, she had hers go around to the back. There was a good chance they’d be preoccupied with the other side, but also it was fun dodging lasers. Of course, it’d be less fun if she were to actually get hit, which the wing of her ship did.

She landed in a controlled crash along the edge of the space station, leaning back and wondering what she could do. Her little ship was half operational, which was still operational, but only half. Not good, she’d have to take one to leave, or try to escape with a broken fighter. She thought, then figured she could improvise the escape.

She only hoped there were some actual fighters on board, killing civilians was boring and, she often kept this opinion to herself, pathetic and not worth the effort.

Hrajlmak'Natok · May 3, 2020

Objective: B
Post: 1
Tags: Leknion /

Osam /

Kad

__________________________________________________________________________________

Savage eyes looked upon the black polygon to which so many desperately spoke to. In the center of this burning city, surrounded by carnage and ruination, a small crowd gathered around what could only be described as a shrine. The other cities had them. They were religious sites, no doubt in Hrajlmak's mind. His troops had busied themselves with the purge but now stood restlessly around this group of zealous natives. Hrajlmak stared at them, at the object. He had not seen such behavior in all his conquests. To find some semblance of solace and reassurance in a shrine. Even the Jedi were all fighters but this crowd were more interested in the black object than their survival. Hrajlmak slowly weaved through the crowd. None paid him any attention. They cried, prayed, all to the object. He was insatiably intrigued. His eyes rested on the shrine. It was just rock. Nothing more. Yet even he brought himself to his knees. Looking around he mimicked the Weequay populace. He found it comical as much as curious.
But he felt nothing. He was just a spectator with rhetorical questions. How could they forgo fear? Perhaps they knew their time was here? It was all immaterial. He laughed to himself, stood up and sent the blade end of his staff through the nearest Weequay. This prompted the rest of his troops to do similar. The crowd was quickly and savagely torn apart, tooth and spike.

Osam · May 4, 2020

Objective: A
Post 1

There was darkness beyond the veil of flesh, keeping the vacuum of the unknown at bay. Into it, the great beast swam, it's many-tentacled appendages clasping and unclasping at the empty nothingness with hungry abandon. The Debaucher was a creature of viciousness and aggression, one of many that matched the ideological values held near and dear to the cardiovascular systems of the Draelvasier.

Hiding away within the tendrils were a myriad of warriors awaiting the anticipated latch of the creature. Among them stood a Drone of recently elevated status, whose equipment had been carefully cleaned and maintained for his reintroduction into the Crusade. True, he had fought in a battle very shortly after he had been given his new identification as Risen-Srael, but that had been a rushed affair that had required a certain expeditiousness that didn't warrant proper preparation.

For now, he still answered the orders of the battalion commanders, and he still led a squad of nine other Sraelvun drones into combat, but a galaxy of opportunity had opened up for the Major. He was no longer confined to the strict and rigid systems which governed that drones were something to be used and tossed away. Now, there was a chance for genuine elevation of rank, of further positive change in his career, and the honor and glory associated with it.

Nearby, a number of Sraelvun drones jostled against one another for space, an unconscious battle for breathing space in the cramped and humid appendage. The Major raised his eyes towards a pair of similar figures, their armaments bearing the crimson lines that marked them as members of his tribe. Following the events of the Ish'makra hearing, he had spoken with his drone commander about the pair in the hopes of elevating them to similar positions as he held. They were Risen-Srael, just as he was, and the work he had done to secure a future for them had earned him an amicable relationship with the pair.

There was a sudden clash of metal being torn by the Debaucher as it latched wholly onto its target, and the disturbing appendages it utilized began to allow exit for the legions of Draelvasier within. Baedurin brutes, Aeravalin shamans with their bestial mounts and companions strode to the forefront, and Sraelvun filled the gaps between the groups, organizing into regimented squads as they set about the work of invading the station. Spiker fire filled the air in moments, and the stench of blood was swiftly recognizable even through the odor of the nearby Debaucher.

In a blur, Sriluur had been devoted to destruction.

Kad

Galak · May 4, 2020

Objective: B
Tags:

Kad |

Kyrim Tenebris | Leknion |
Post: One

From one battlefield to another, they seemingly found themselves combating their foe. Their foe was everything, everyone. Species and faces started to meld together when you realise they all share the same characteristic. Weakness. Hundreds of species, all unique and perhaps in their own cultures beautiful. But - plagued by a sense of weakness and a purposeless existence that stung at the eyes. It made no sense, why did they all end up the same?

Were they all once like the Draelvaser? Perhaps they had slowly devolved into this. The idea his ancestors could be crime bosses or spice dealers frightened him. Sriluur was home to these strange leather-faced mercenaries. It seemed as though their species sole expertise was in selling themselves for things of material value.

When the Orkale landed, the Brute turned Marauder leapt from the Orkale ahead of his personal unit of Brutes. His modified automatic blasting out hails of enlargened spikes at double the firing rate. Everything in his path seemingly exploded into messes of flesh. The few that survived writhed in pain, their bodies frozen in place as the seething heat boiled their blood into a thick oozing oil.

Kyrim Tenebris · May 4, 2020

Galak |

Kad |

Osam | Leknion

Kyrim Tenebris and the remainder of Rhivak Squad approached the space station from the front, pushing through the onslaught of laserfire and wreckage of fighters and dropship hit. The craft in front of them they used as shields and portable drills, ordering them to crash directly into the space station. Having these suicide runs was only a ruse, for the minuscule destruction that they would cause to the outer shell would only be the beginning of a greater quelling of hope and life. This is the Draelvasier way, the beauty behind the Bryn'adûl.

Ramming through the broken hull, the zealots took to the ideology of brute force over subterfuge and decided to just cut through whatever stood in their way instead of just going around. Kyrim's orders were simple. Cut the engines of the station, strand the evacuees, finish the extinction of Sriluur. He had been given permission to personally kill the last evacuee, to tell them that they were the last and that there would be no more of their weak kind.

"

" Kyrim bellowed.

The Zealots under his command opened fire with their spike rifles, crushing all in their way as they walked through hall after hall filled with the weak. The Weequay and the Hok. Spike after spike was sent burning through their victims' chests and legs, pinning them where they stood as they attempted to run away, trapping them in hallways and leaving only the dead. But the Zealots moved on, Kyrim at their head, towards what could only be the station's core.

he ordered, and onwards they went. To raze and destroy, to destroy all hope for their enemies.

"The Bryn'adûl culls all weakness from the galaxy. It is the great healer. But first, It must destroy."
~excerpt from a Zealot teaching

Kad · May 5, 2020

Objective B - Planetside
Tags:

Galak |

Hrajlmak'Natok
Post: Two

Another corridor, half a dozen more spiker shots exploded from his rifle as he slowly progressed the length of it only to find himself once again being attacked from the side. The leather faced idiot shrieked as he half-tackled the Zealot, forcing him back a few steps. The Weequay tried to wrestle away his gun, but instead found himself flung into the other side of the wall to their right.

Gredak struck the Weequay with the butt of his rifle twice to the face, he grunted - half crying as he grasped desperately at the gun once more, able to push it down as Gredak simply aimed for his right knee, the spiker bolt nearly tore the leg in half. The ugly alien screamed in pain, his arms pressed against either side of the wall, just barely able to keep himself standing as he seemingly pleaded in his native tongue.

The Zealot Elite gave no immediate reaction, simply rising the rifle again as he bludgeoned his helpless victim. His head was soon oozing from all sides as his crying shrieks turned to barely conscious murmurs and whimpering. A weight sunk in the Zealots chest, staring at the pathetic creature. Part of him felt like he was senselessly killing simple animals, but he knew what had to be done to save the Galaxy.

They all knew. The Zealot shot one final bolt into the aliens head, moving forward once more.

Hrajlmak'Natok · May 5, 2020

Objective: B
Post: 2
Tags: Leknion /

Osam /

Kad

__________________________________________________________________________________

Hrajlmak pulled his staff from a denizen of the crowd. The surrounding flesh clinging to the malabast shaft. He looked around on the wasteland that was Sriluur. It hadn't taken long but there was still much work to be done. For the first time in a long time, Hrajlmak sat at the base of the shaft. Years of non-stop conquest bent his knees. He took a deep breath. Inhaling smoke, flesh-fumes and screams. He looked up into the smoky sky where an evacuation vessel made desperate headway to space only to be intercepted and torn apart by a flowing cloud of Phedraks. Split apart and drenched in flame and black smoke the ship fell gracelessly. Keen eyes could make out immolated Weequay and Houk alike amidst the falling wreckage. All species found common ground in the face of destruction, Hrajlmak contemplated. Would the entire Galaxy would unite under the flag of survival and fight back against the Bryn'adul? Hrajlmak dismissed the thought for another time. There were things to do. This area had been razed to the ground. Placing his hands on his knees Hrajlmak pushed himself to his feet. He pulled his arms back in a stretch, his face scrunching, bones shifting.

Osam · May 6, 2020

Objective A
Post 2

They hadn't been prepared for the assault on the station. Within the first two minutes of combat, a dozen bodies had already littered the floor, their forms gouged through superhot projectiles, their blood evaporating within their forms as it leaked into the slugs, bloating the corpses in the process with excess gas. The band that had immediately faced them on arrival had been armed, but only with weaker variants of firearm typically allocated to civilian groups. Their resistance had been as futile as a single tree trying to hold back a tsunami, and the destructive effects wrought on them had been fairly equivalent.

The many Draelvasier warriors began to split apart into smaller bands as they went about the process of claiming the station for themselves, facing resistance in small-parts throughout, but occasionally striking hard barricades of prepared defenders. Elsewhere, the calls of Rhivaks roaming after their masters could be heard, indicating that the battle was going successfully. Osam was fairly happy that he had managed to keep a good distance from the war-beasts because a misfired shot could potentially pierce the hull of the station, and suck all of them out into the dark vacuum beyond from whence there was little recourse.

Recognizing that the hallways were crowded enough with allies and enemies, and acknowledging that the brutes and shamans would be best suited for the direct conflicts breaking out at strategic points throughout, the Risen-Srael directed his nine subordinates to follow him into what appeared to be a maintenance shaft. "Check for flankers. Hiders." He hissed at them, and with the obedience that was a hallmark of their race, the Sraelvun drones under his command followed.

Kad |

Kyrim Tenebris |

Galak

Sarask Hiskt · May 6, 2020

Objective A – Space Station

Tags:

Post: Two

Sarask looked around. Seemed there were one of the clear things. That people looked out of. Something about grass or whatever. She supposed that might be a good entry route. She aligned her fighter up and around to point at it, before spiral-diving in. She dove straight into the hallway, causing the entirety of the hallway or room to be sent into the vacuum of space. There may have been people inside, but she didn’t care.

Quickly she disengaged from her fighter at the side as it slid along to cover the window, stopping the explosive decompression and allowing her to enter the room before the emergency shutters slid down. Her fighter was on its own, but maybe it’d survive. If it wasn’t stupid. Most of them were, so she didn’t have much hope. She heard the sounds of feet clattering against metal.

She was, of course, improvising at the moment. Maybe she could lower the shields, or overload a few reactors. For, now however, she just needed to kill her way to somewhere important. There was an ample supply.

Osam · May 8, 2020

Objective: A
Post 3

It proved to be more spacious than the Major had expected, and there was plenty of room to maneuver through the tunnel. Here and there were lines of technology, likely providing power or communication or some other benefit to the station through to other portions of it. Nevertheless, it didn't appear as though any of these were large enough lines to have suited a reactor, and so Osam didn't bother yanking or tugging at them for fear he would electrocute himself and accomplish very little in the process.

Infrared allowed for a sight through the darkened tunnels unparalleled among other races, and it was for that very reason that the Major was able to scout a figure standing at what appeared to be the end of the corridor. To their immediate west, the sounds of blasterfire and spiker rounds filled the air, indicating that the doorway here lead to a place just behind one of the large defensive lines that had been erected by the Alliance and their cohorts. Clearly, the man standing within the tunnel had been dispatched to serve as an early-warning to the approach, or else as a guardian against flanking action by the Draelvasier.

Foolish. He was only a single man, and he would hold back nine Sraelvun and their Risen Major in such a narrow space? There was room to maneuver a bit, yes, but to dodge spiker rounds when ten guns fired at once would be all but impossible, wouldn't it?

The familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber sounded as the green energy blade appeared in the hands of the guardian. "You'll pass no farther, monsters!" he shouted. The voice was youthful and filled with vim indicative of someone who had just reached adulthood. It was a shame that he would not live to experience it for long.

Kad |

Kad · May 8, 2020

Objective B - Planetside
Tags:

Galak
Post: Three

The Zealot kept light on his feet, his stone-communicator was abuzz with traffic as their forces pushed into the facility. The Brutes had forced their way into the main courtyard, and now the Zealot could do his best work. Their enemy turned their focus to the obvious attack, leaving many empty hallways and corridors filled with wounded behind. Gredak would not spare them, but that wasn't his objective either.

He moved toward their vehicle depot, he was to open the gate and allow the Savage Drones inside. They would no doubt massacre their wounded and apply all the pressure that would be necessary to ensure he would go unnoticed until he reached his next objective. The elite slinked through the hallways, slowly and carefully as to not cause any alarm to the stragglers remaining.

The Zealot managed to make his way into the depot without raising any alarm. Slowly moving over to the controls. The blinking lights of the blue screen were mostly confusing; but he didn't have to understand them. The zealot slapped the hacking worms onto the console and the doors jittered and slowly opened. The craning metal doors slowly gave way as the sea of black savages poured out from the gates like blood oozing from a wound.

"Time to roll."

Sarask Hiskt · May 8, 2020

Objective A – Space Station

Tags:

Post: Three

Sarask galloped down the endless hallways. One after the other, with little rooms in between. They may have been rather large for humans, or, perhaps medium size. They weren’t for her. Even the hallways were annoyingly small. But, of course, that also meant the lesser species had much less chance of escaping. In fact, she didn’t have to fight them. Fighting people who were running away or barely able to react was boring. No, she couldn’t do that.

Instead, she just ran through them. Enhanced speed and durability through the Force, it made her an advancing wall of doom. If they were too slow, and they always were, they’d be crushed to death by her larger, more powerful frame. In fact, she found it kind of fun. She saw a group of men with blasters drop said weapons and turn around to run. She was going fast. They were screaming.

They turned. The hallway cornered off into another direction. Sarask was never a good turner. She crashed against it, but then pushed herself into the new direction. The metal was faring less than she was. She continued at a leisurely pace, moving just a little bit faster than them. She was gaining up and they knew it. They came across a pair of doors, did they expect them to open for them? They didn’t. Seems they needed code or key. They panicked.

Sarask didn’t need a key. Or a code. She just sped up. Through the weak creatures, and the door.

Kyrim Tenebris · May 10, 2020

Galak |

Kad |

Osam | Leknion

As his squad of five came together once more since their improvised entry, Kyrim gave them a new set of orders. They were to split up into two smaller teams, Kyrim and one zealot, and the other team consisting of the three remaining zealots.

Having come upon a crossroads-like hallway, they would maximize efficiency by doubling their efforts to destroy the engines and kill all who stood in their way. It was not an option that Kyrim particularly enjoyed doing as it relinquished some of his authority to one of his lesser, but he knew that it was the best plan and that even two zealots alone would not be outmatched in the close quarters of the boarded space station.

Splitting up, the zealot with whom Kyrim was partnered did not fail to amuse himself, slicing viciously through the tendons of a lightly armed crew-members, and then almost sadistically silencing him with a horizontal slash towards the man's exposed neck. Kyrim walked behind his squadmates, watching the show of carnage and merciless destruction of the weak. Weequays tougher skin might take a bit longer to slash through than humans would, but the houk were fun to skewer and impale to death, as slashing was inefficient against their layers of muscle. But still, they all died under the zealot's kasigurama, and those that managed to get around found themselves in a dead-end, literally. Kyrim let none escape and finished them off with a precise stab or slash to the head or neck as his fellow zealot released his pent up anger and channeled it into creating as much unnecessary gore as possible.

This very gore blinded his squadmate, a baedurin whose name he had never truly known or about whom he had cared about, and enabled the draelvasier to walk straight into a jedi. A quick buzzing noise began and took over as one of the more dominant sounds in their close vicinity as the jedi activated his green lightsaber and impaled the zealot through the chest, and then it slightly hummed as the human pulled it diagonally through the body and out of the now carcass of a zealot. At that close of range, the armor could not protect its wearer from the extreme cutting power of a lightsaber's plasma blade, and so fell a member of Rhivak Squad.

The male Jedi looked proud of his kill but upon noticing that there was a shadow across the floor he looked up and jumped into a ready position, not understanding how he could not notice this monstrosity before through the force, and upon checking, realized that the force flowed around the zealot in front of him, not through him like every other creature of natural origins.

The Jedi gripped his lightsaber with the green blade forwards and stated in a voice which sounded calm but was actually one of self-reassurance: "I am Kadin Wrol, and I say that you are going to die!"

stated Kyrim, bringing his blades softly into the palms of his hands.

Hrajlmak'Natok · May 10, 2020

Objective: B
Post: 3
Tags: Leknion /

Osam /

Kad

__________________________________________________________________________________

Hrajlmak lead a contingent across a few miles of desert to another town where a drone vanguard had reported a sizeable militia that had managed to secure the area. The nearer they got, the less space there was between Draelvasier corpses. The scout report proved valid when they finally came within earshot of the town's eastern wall. Once they were close it didn't take long for aggressive voices to begin bouncing around inside. Within moments of their arrival, rotary blaster cannons lit up the sands. The crowd behind Hrajlmak dispersed like a parting sea to allow a Rhivak through. It's massive figure kicked up a storm as it sped headfirst into the poorly fortified duracrete, obliterating it. Between Hrajlmak and prey there was only a few metres of sand.

Hrajlmak leading the charge, the contingent poured through the breach. Hrajlmak strode across the rubble, immolating any foolish enough to approach him. The battle for this insignificant speck on Sriluur commenced in earnest, and Hrajlmak was in his element. In a fever he swung his staff without a second thought. He noted the Houk for putting up a tougher fight. Their large bodies and great strength proved a troubling challenge when Hrajlmak was outnumbered. But he would sooner take his own life than be bested by the pathetic fauna of the Galaxy. It was this blind desperation to kill and never be killed that carried him through the fight.

Kad · May 10, 2020

Objective B - Planetside
Tags:

Galak
Post: Four

Screams of terror and confusion filled the corridors of the military outpost as the Savage Drones culled the wounded of their enemy. Gredak removed the hacking worms from the console, placing them back in the freezing pouch attached to his belt, picking up his rifle. He moved to return to the fight, halting in the empty room for a moment. The sounds of battle were not far off, but they already knew this mission was a success. His part to play in this was over, now the hammer came down and would destroy it all.

If he stayed here, waited until the fighting was over... would anyone even notice? He wasn't sure. But the suggestion lingered with him long enough to halt his progression. His muscles seemingly froze before relaxing into an eased state as he simply breathed. Maybe he was tired? He couldn't tell, being tired and being busy seemed synonymous. There wasn't enough time to think about being tired to feel it.

But that was perhaps a gift. The purpose given to them all, though Gredak knew in his heart what his true purpose was - his true goal. To survive and thrive.

Sarask Hiskt · May 11, 2020

Objective A – Space Station

Tags:

Post: Four

The trio she had been “chasing” became nothing more than steel-wrapped meat, bursting through the door that wouldn’t take their advance. Sarask wiped some blood off of her crystalline shell. It was cracked in a few places, but the amount of time it’d take for it to grow back and, perhaps, grow stronger in doing so didn’t outweigh the look of their doomed faces. If she half wanted to laugh. But right now she had a little bit of a problem.

It seemed she had made it into some kind of feeding hall. Rows upon rows of tables near her, but on the other side of the long room they had taken a fair few up and barricaded themselves. She reached down and shook a table, not believing that they wouldn’t’ fasten them. It felt pretty solid, so she wasn’t quite sure how they had managed to rip the tables off so quickly. Either way, it was bad news if people were in there. She quickly reached down and picked up a large chunk of the door that wasn't in pieces, a bit of mashed arm sliding off of it as the first shot rang against the metal.

That was a close one. The place that got hit looked hot, and the door wasn’t big enough for her. So she crouched, and moved forward. She had to make absolutely sure that she wouldn’t’ get hit. Getting hit meant slowing down, and she hated that. The blasters were also hot, and that was a bit of a weakness of hers.

Osam · May 11, 2020

Objective A
Post 4

In the narrow corridor of the maintenance shaft, there were distinct advantages and disadvantages that quickly made themselves evident. For starters, there was enough room for about three humanoids to stand abreast of each other without jostling one another so badly as to affect accuracy and movement. Perhaps that was indicative of the fact this was a major maintenance shaft, a capillary in the expansive system that made up the assorted systems of the station. Of course, the advantage of having three persons able to stand side to side also meant a disadvantage of having the remaining seven Sraelvun who made up the squad having to stand further behind them.

Meanwhile, the lone Jedi learner -- he was far too young to have achieved any sort of mastery -- was able to move effectively as swiftly and directly as he wished, and having no necessity to maneuver around an ally meant he was afforded a greater breadth of movement than any of the Draelvasier warriors. Leading from the front, Osam stood between a pair of his subordinate drones, each of them raising their spiker rifles as he pointed his own, and taking rapid shots at the padawan. Normally, deflection of one of the massive superhot projectiles would end very poorly, but the padawan had apparently been expecting to face the strike-team, and instead chose to twist and bend around the shots, shifting in ways that would make a contortionist exceptionally jealous.

With a sudden flick of his hand, Osam felt an invisible grip upon his spiker rifle, jolting it upwards and beyond its usual recoil arc and sending an already firing round directly into one of the many pipes filling the tunnel. Hot and steaming mist began to spill out, forcing his Sraelvun companions back a few steps as the scalding hot moisture made contact with their hands and faces. The Risen-Srael, however, had been birthed of a beneficial union which had granted him the ability to stand within such oppressive heats, and he utilized the moment stolen from not having to retreat to fire off another shot. This one caught the Padawan by surprise, but he reacted appropriately, shifting out of the way just half of a second before the round bore through his body.

Kad |

Hrajlmak'Natok · May 12, 2020

Objective: B
Post: 4
Tags: Leknion /

Osam /