M E A T B A G
The rolling dunes of Thyrsus were stained with the blood of the fallen. Valiant crusaders, who took up arms against the villainous Scions of Eshan, died alongside those who held their homeworld in a tyrannical vice. Both sides suffered greatly during the Thyrsian Crusade, but in the end, only one stood victorious. The pages of history would likely forget the names and faces of the people involved. But, the lessons of cruelty that were imparted would become ever-lasting. Thus might of the Echani Compact was weighed, measured, and was found wanting. Their hold on the Six Sisters was broken, and those who managed to survive the Crusade’s coming were scattered to the solar winds, unlikely ever to be seen again.
When the dust and rolling dunes finally settled, all that remained were the dead. The bodies of the Echani who fell in battle were swiftly gathered and carelessly dumped into the Thyrsian wastes. They were treated as nothing more than food for the carrion, and the worms that swam through the sands. The Thyrsian bodies, however, were treated with significantly more reverence. Their ravaged cadavers were honoured in the ancient ways, and what remained of them were laid to rest in the crypts beneath the many towering spires dotting the planet’s surface.
These fallen warriors were the only souls that knew the true meaning of peace. Such a concept was utterly foreign to the desertborn natives, as their entire existence was measured in bodily strength, and the stubborn will to survive. As one would expect, the Thyrsians didn’t adhere to the traditional funerary rites seen among other martial cultures spread out across the stars. Instead of mourning the loss, the Scions of Thyrsus celebrated the lives of those embraced by the Nether - refusing to give in to despair.
It was through this reverence for life itself that the next decision was made. Thyrsus would host the first Feast of Blades of this new era, and the dead would be honoured by games of blood and glory. While traditionally a ceremony that gave respect to the dead of Thyrsus, and Thyrsus alone - much had changed in the decades since the planet was enslaved, and the Sun Guard were exiled. In ancient times, to be Thyrsian was to be born atop the rolling dunes and baptized in war.
In the present era, however, what it meant to be Thyrsian was… admittedly different.
Khonsu often found himself troubled by that prospect, of how his people’s heritage was diluted by the myriad threads of desperation. What was once a proud Thyrsian legacy, was now rife with hundreds of species and shades of humanity. If he were a staunch traditionalist, like some of the warbands beneath his command, they would’ve been purged - much like the heretics who took shelter on the distant moon of Sojourn. Yet, if they continually thinned their ranks, the Sun Guard would’ve died out long ago.
Nevertheless, such troubles were inconsequential in the short term and were better suited for when the first Feast of Blades concluded.
Thus, the Thyrsian Warlord fought to clear his mind as digital invitations were sent across the stars, and the gates to his homeworld were thrown open. Let them come and see his world for all the beauty and splendour it offered. Let them bear witness to the resilience of the Sunborn, and the martial might of the Sun Guard. They would be welcomed with one hand held out in greeting, whilst the other was wrapped about the hilt of a sword. While they intended to celebrate the passing of the dead - the Thyrsians weren’t foolish enough to entertain the idea of letting in wolves with the prospective flock.
It was there, within the public sanctum of his gilded skyhook - Khonsu waited for his honourable guests, and glory-seeking combatants to arrive.
