Private The Fruitage of Hate

[Osam]

Draemidus Prime
Thova 'Mdanam

The homeworld had never ceased to be abominably hot. It was something admired and sought after by the many Baedurin who swelled the ranks of the crusade, but for the other sub-races, and even for the newly adopted Allied Races, it was something to be avoided wherever possible. Osam enjoyed the sensation of burning heat burrowing through the orifices of the Flesh Vessel, seeping into his own lungs and warming him in a simple breath. It was impossible not to feel at home... here was where their great march had begun, and while they did their best to terraform worlds so that they would become more akin to Draemidus, none had ever managed to properly evoke it... not all the way, at least.

A twist and a turn in the corridors of the underground tunnel systems brought him to his destination - a meeting room that had been set aside for his own use and that of the summoned Fleetmaster. Anointed to his position by the hybrid himself following their fairly successful raid against the world of Nal Hutta, it had been determined by the leading figureheads of the Ish'makra that Osam be the one to meet with him about... recent developments.

They were not finished with their work. Not even close, but the Ish'makra had grown impatient since the disappearance. The way that they rattled off commands as though they might seize hold of authority by means of repetition was irritating and laughable. He quelled the thought as quickly as it had appeared, a glimpse of a loyalty scanner hanging over the archway of the door reminding him of the necessity for self-control. These were trying times... there was no need to invite further scrutiny by the Tachael-Vemnak.

The hybrid was alone in the meeting place... until Thova arrived, he would simply remain there, running through the revelations he had been exposed to only hours earlier. Such triumphant devastation... their enemies would never see it coming. The rodents would scurry - of that he was certain.

 

[Thova 'Mdanam]

Thova had never been to the capital in person before. Every Vaydralen officer was supposed to at some point, it was tradition. A symbolic show of connection between the allied species and the homeworld of the growing Empire and Covenant. Thova however had been rushed into service, so to speak. He had been deployed to the frontlines of the Bryn'adul and Silver Jedi Concord border following a flair up of hostility between the two nations. In less than a month Thova had seen over a dozen separate military engagements, often no larger than a single warship on either side. It had been his first taste of battle against the enemies of the Bryn'adul, and Thova had never regretted them until now.

He had no experience with the capital or those who called it their home. Caerdar was itself a desert world itself, so Thova was not too uncomfortable with the climate, but even he found it bordering his standards. He had the internal life support systems of his armor working harder to keep him cool. Even though every inch of his skin was covered, he did not want to allow himself to sweat profusely, especially given the reason he had been summoned to the capital. Sweating during this meeting would be a sign of nerves and weakness, and he refused to break in such a simple way.

He had been directed to an isolated meeting chamber deep underground the capital worlds surface, following a route that had to be described to him with a map. The tunnels were far too complicated for their own good, in his opinion, but he eventually made it. He entered the chamber cautiously, his crimson armor freshly cleaned and gleaming. A black cloak with red lining hung around his shoulders, the new symbol of office he still wore. His old cloak had been all red, but the new one was the symbol of a Fleetmaster within the Vaydralen people. He wore it proudly now, and would wear it till the day he died, or advanced further.

Bowing his head slightly to Osam as he moved towards the table, Thova glanced around the room, his mind racing as to the reason for this meeting. "Warlord, it is agreeable to see you again."

 

[Osam]

Thova 'Mdanam

It did not take an exceptional amount of waiting for the Fleetmaster to arrive. He demonstrated a remarkable degree of punctuality which was no doubt one of the reasons he had been summoned today. He was an exceptional member of his kindred - having risen through the ranks with remarkable swiftness. A great majority of his promotions had been as a result of his innate talents and his willingness to employ them so eagerly against the enemies of the Bryn'adul, though Osam didn't deny that they had been seeking to place more of the Allied Races into positions of power since the beginning.

Everyone needed role models, after all.

"It is good to see you as well, Fleetmaster." He nodded briefly toward the chair at the end of the table, furthest from him, but directly opposite of his own head seat. "It's just going to be the two of us - you won't need to meet the Ish'makra... yet." He could remember his own nervousness at being thrust before the governing body of the Bryn'adul. Their true nature had eluded him as Sraelvun... he had not known for certain what he should expect from any of them. Leaders of his people, yes, but what use did such esteemed people have for a meager drone? If only he had known what had been at stake, he might've tried even harder to appeal to them.

"I've just finished meeting with them. There's some... chaos now." He glanced back at the fealty scanner humming gently over the doorway, tempted to rend it off the wall when he had finished his meeting. "The Titan has gone missing. Some believe he's gone into another dimension... others that he's been killed in an unseen conflict. Others are missing too... important members of the Crusade."

"The Ish'makra wants to... send a message of unity and strength to the galaxy - to our people, mostly. That in spite of these losses, we're still whole." He paused to gauge the reaction of the Fleetmaster, hoping to discern something from his Vaydralen features.

"Fleetmaster... given a task force and the ability to annihilate a world, which one would you pick?" Osam ran his finger along a stone on the table's end, projecting an illusionary map of the galaxy for the Vaydralen to peruse.

 

[Thova 'Mdanam]

Thova turned his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Every word that Osam spoke in such a short period of time threw Thova for a loop, his mind whirling with countless possibilities and potential hazards he could barely keep track of. The Titan was missing? The Chieftain had been the being that built the Bryn'adul to what they were, he had brought the allied races, especially the Vaydralen, into the fold. By his hand he had conquered swaths of the galaxy, and served as the bastion for the Bryn'adul against all external threats.

And he was suddenly gone?

Thova understood why this knowledge was not being openly discussed across the Empire as of yet. The Bryn'adul operated on a survival of the fittest mentality, despite some efforts to modernize the nation. They had all followed the will of the Chieftain because he had proven himself to be the strongest, most able to lead them. For him to suddenly be gone now...

Thova was still contemplating this when Osam went on, and Thova turned his eyes fully on the Warlord. "Hapes." Turning, Thova opened a terminal on the side of the room, bringing up a galactic map of Silver Jedi Concord space. He brought up a finger and tapped the screen indicating the Hapes system. "Militarily, economically, and politically the world is vital to the Concord. Historically, it has traditions and a reputation that goes back thousands of years. It serves as a bulwark and bastion for them should all else fail, and a constant reminder of times past when the Jedi reigned supreme. If...if I was given such power, such authority, I would lead it there."