Private The Return

[Gordrak]

Near Draemidus Prime


​

Gordrak Looked upon the hologram with a mixture of disgust and uncertainty. The hologram displayed the entrance to a malign place known as the "Killing Fields". The fields were a space inside the Nether that is closely associated with the Bryn'adul. Gordrak normally held contempt for such places but the promise of a weapon or perhaps power had stayed his judgement. After the fall, Gordrak and many of the Ultras under his command had broken from the Bryn'adul. Together they wandered the galaxy in the hopes of perfecting their craft. No more were they bound by honor or tradition nor did misguided dogma hold any sway over them. They sought to root out any method or path that might make a stronger, superior warrior. While the thought didn't sit well with many, they understood that to survive and even thrive meant changing. The old ways saw them ultimately fail against a galaxy that changed and adapted. Gordrak had come to the conclusion that embracing that change would be the only way for his warriors to survive and thrive.

Their pilgrimage had taken them across the galaxy yet still it was incomplete. Gordrak himself still had yet to learn about the force and how one might harness it to its fullest. That alone was another reason he had found himself here of all places. For too long he allowed himself to suppress and ultimately ignore powers he had come to see as his birthright. He held no illusions regarding his might in the force. No, even if his aptitude was average or perhaps less, the force was still his and he had to realize its potential. Still, regardless of his lack of knowledge and control regarding the force, he knew enough that something had drawn him here. Something wanted him to enter the Nether and seek out a tower. What the tower held was unknown to him but he felt it held what he needed. A weapon or power to help him and his warriors on their quest.

"Are you certain, Chieftain?"
​

Gordrak snapped out of his introspection and turned toward the voice. It was a Vorgar, an Ultra who had come to be his second in command. The Ultra had done well to distinguish himself near the end of their failed crusade. Vorgar himself was one of several Ultras who escaped alongside Gordrak at the end of the battle that broke the Bryn'adul. Since then, he had proven himself a staunch supporter of Gordraks knew ideology. "Yes. It's time we made the journey, Vor. Ready a strike force and transportation." Gordrak commanded. Vorgar grinned and quickly donned his helmet before speaking again. "At once, Chieftain." With that said, Vorgar left to ready a force for entry to the Nether. As he left, Gordrak felt an unease worm its way into his being. He was being drawn to the Nether, to a place that almost seemed to judge his kind. Thoughts of being judged unworthy replaced the unease as Gordrak turned toward the holo-projector. Was something trying to make him doubt himself? Make him flee? Gordrak snarled as he brought a fist down upon the projector, breaking it. All of that unease and doubt found itself burnt away as anger quickly took their place.

No. They were going and that was the end of it. No longer would he torture himself like he had in the past.


--- --- --- --- --- ---

​

The Killing Fields had certainly earned its name. The moment Gordrak and his strike force had entered the Nether through "The Prime" they had found the realm quite taxing. The Hill they had found upon entering was the first of many obstacles seemingly out to get them. Its bladed grass had exacted only light injuries on only a few of the Ultras. Still, it had made things apparent enough that the operation would be anything but easy. Having left the hill, Gordrak and his Ultras found themselves assailed by the vengeful dead that called this wretched place home. They pressed toward the strike force with a determination that even Gordrak found to be impressive. If the undead weren't bad enough, some indescribable force was tugging at the very core of every Ultra present. This insidious pull sought to draw them toward a structure nearby. Despite stealing only glances of it, the idea and concept of an arena manifested. Gordrak himself had stopped mid combat to gaze at the arena almost longingly. He had to go there. He had to abandon the mission and - a blow to the chest staggered Gordrak and momentarily freed him from the arenas pull. Delivering a return stroke with axe, Gordrak redoubled his focus.

Whatever this place was, it was inherently wrong. The thought that such a realm existed and that it preyed upon his kind filled Gordrak with something akin to dread. Gordrak turned to Vorgar and spoke, his guttural voice betraying some of his unease. "Vor, We need to push through. Avoid that arena at all cost. Get them moving and follow my lead." Too busy to respond right away, Vorgar confirmed the best he could with a nod. As Vorgar sought to communicate his Chieftains will, Gordrak surged forward, axe in hand. The pull of the arena returned and, for the briefest of moments, Gordrak thought he heard a voice. No, it was two voices. It couldn't be real. Despite a newly awakened yearning, Gordrak steeled himself and fought onward. They needed to break out of the horde before it grew any larger. Having leveraged his incredible size, strength, and reach, Gordrak cleaved a bloody path through the dead. Their lust for vengeance falling short when met with his drive and disdain for them. Still, while Gordrak was uniquely armored, the Ultras weren't as lucky. Some had already fallen and one or two had even broke ranks to approach the arena.

Gordrak swore silently as his brethren left or were claimed by the dead. Had this place seduced or bewitched him like the arena had nearly done? Had he lead his warriors here only to get them all killed? He exerted himself harder and harder as the enormity of the situation unfolded before him. He couldn't afford to end up like Tathra and the council he had left behind. Gordrak needed to prove himself or nothing would change. Soldiering through the fatigue, Gordrak roared as loud as he could. That bellowing shout was his challenge to this realm and its inhabitants. If it thought to claim him or impose a judgement, it would have to earn it.

Sethrak

 

[Sethrak]

The Tower
​

In The Tower, The Warlock is alive but unconscious. His breathing is slow, but steady, and his body is still. Long gone is the ghost of Hrajlmak, having transcended beyond The Nether. The Force is strong here, much stronger than it is in the known galaxy. It flows through everything, not just the living, but the dead. From the grasses on Hill One, that stab and slash at the feet of trespassers, to the metal corals near the warped version of The Bendu that explode. Not only is The Force immensely powerful here, but it corrupts, not like the simple corruption of The Dark Side. It corrupts the minds of the living, it shatters the will and torments the soul. This place, The Killing Field, was formed with the sole purpose of punishing The Bryn'adul.

The Warlock has been here for many months, clinging on to life, oblivious to all else. But his spirit has been restless, bombarded by the relentless assaults presented by this place. Voices have called out to him...voices he hadn't heard before, never ceasing, every day, some crying for help, others shaming him for his actions. But there was no comforting from any familiar voice....No Hrajlmak, No Tathra, nothing. Only the faceless Drael, Sraelvun, and Aerevalin warriors of The Bryn'adul. Their purpose was to suffer, and in their suffering, they were to share their fate with Sethrak. It was torture unlike anything The Warlock had seen. His attempts to get information from Kiara Ayres months ago paled in comparison. But somehow The Warlock held onto his sanity, and his life.

Until today.

The voices were different, no longer were there cries for help, or screams of anger at his failures. No, this time they were the calls of battle. Whispers and faint shouts called out, but not to him. Then one, as clear as day, and in no way a feint, called out, "Leave"

The Warlock's eyes opened and he inhaled a sharp, deep, and raspy breath, his lungs filling to capacity for the first time since he fell into his slumber. He looked around the room, his vision blurry as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, unseen for nearly a hundred days. His mouth was dry, and his whole body ached. He had not healed. He examined himself, taking note of his injuries. Crusted blood covered his body. Indeed, he was in no better condition now than he was before. But he was alive. His calls to The Force had been answered.

He had been unconscious but not unaware. The voices, he remembered them well.

He couldn't move, he was too weak, too stiff, and too sore. But his connection to The Force was stronger than ever before. He commanded it, searching the field for disturbances to the everyday ebbs and flows of this place. It didn't take long. There was life, a lot of it. He focused on that area, trying to find who or what this life was. At last he made his discovery.


"Gordrak. Hear me now. Come to The Tower immediately. Bypass the arena, you will find nothing but death and failure there. Bring medical aid, and be prepared for anything."

The Warlock knew not if his message would reach The Draelvasier Juggernaut, and how this place may affect it, but if there was a way for him to escape this place, he would do anything. The presence of a living being, especially a Drael, even more specifically Gordrak, gave Sethrak a new sense of hope. Maybe he would be saved. Perhaps The Bryn'adul were still around, and things were going well. All he could do was wait just a little longer....

 

[Gordrak]

Gordrak. Hear me now. Come to The Tower immediately. Bypass the arena, you will find nothing but death and failure there. Bring medical aid, and be prepared for anything
​

Gordrak heard and felt the words as they echoed throughout his mind. He knew the owner of those words. He, like their genetic sire, had lost himself to this place. Evidently Sethrak had proven himself stronger than their progenitor. Gordrak continued his moving slaughter, his axe carving out hellish furrows in the mass of undead surrounding him. Behind him were the Ultras who pressed onward after their Chieftain. They had become a 'spearhead' that refused to be stopped, their fury carrying them through the seemingly endless mass of the vengeful dead. As soon as the breakout occurred, the Ultras were running. Those unfortunate enough to not escape the dead resolved to buy their brothers as much time as possible. Gordrak spared them a single glance before continuing onward. There would be a time and place to honor them but it wasn't here.


Eventually Gordrak and the Ultras began to slow their pace. The number of undead began to dwindle before dying out entirely. As they disappeared, an unease settled upon the Ultras. Suddenly fatigue had stricken much of them, Gordrak included. As veterans of numerous warzones and bearers of over a decades worth of experience each, the Ultras should have been fine. Additionally, their biology should have afforded them the ability to recover should the barest hints of exertion have made itself known. Gordrak struggled forward, pushing his exhaustion aside. The nether had failed to claim him through martial might so it now turned toward a more insidious approach. He snorted in contempt as he trudged onward, his Ultras following suit as best they could. It didn't take long for some of his warriors to begin seeing and hearing things. While most ignored whatever was being directed at them, some tried responding to whatever it was that was calling them. One Ultra cried out what sounded like a brother while another cursed at a rival long thought dead.


Curiously, Gordrak himself heard and saw nothing during his time in the plains. He was overly fatigued for some reason, but no ghosts came to haunt him. Gordrak assumed it was because he had burnt most of his weakness away by this point. He had come far compared to his days as an upstart juggernaut. Rather than let his mind continue to wander, Gordrak turned back toward his Ultras and spoke, his voice shaking some from their ordeal. "Ignore them! They had their chance and they wasted it. Let them wallow in their own misery." Turning back around, Gordrak spoke a final time before he continued onward.

"If you fall behind, you'll be left behind." ​

 

[Sethrak]

The Warlock continued to observe the events through The Force. It wasn't the same as being there, he had no clear vision of what was happening. Only a general idea of where Gordrak and his soldiers stood. Currently they would be faced with haunting spirits, just like The Voices that had been attacking The Warlock for weeks and weeks, endlessly. Gordrak would also face a great amount of fatigue here...but Sethrak knew the ultras would fight through it.

Sethrak thought ahead, remembering the challenges he had faced when he made the trek. The hardest were yet to come...Gordrak would need to shelter his men from the explosive corals, and then find a way across the acidic river that led to the tower. Sethrak had simply passed out, and awoken on the other side of the acid. Or at least that was what The Warlock remembered. Perhaps his mind, tired from being so near death for months, was failing to remember something.

The Warlock closed his eyes, saving his strength. He had lasted so long due to The Force, which put him in a hibernation of sorts. Now that he was awake, he was again fighting death's call. Gordrak needed to hurry.

The Warlock took a few deep breaths, pain soared through his chest. It would keep him awake and focused, at least for a while. He couldn't remember all of his injuries. He knew his lung was punctured, from something. He remembered the grass slicing at his legs. But there had to be more than that, and he couldn't remember what had happened to him. Now he was certain that he was short of blood, even though he wasn't actively bleeding out. It didn't make sense to him, but his time here revealed that there was nothing in this place that made sense. One would have to adapt, or die.

 

[Gordrak]

The Ultras had since entered the Bendu's domain. In addition to running afoul of the poisonous and quite sharp corals littering the area, The Ultras were now being assaulted by the dead once more. The strike force had been thinned considerably now thanks to a mix of unnatural fatigue, toxins, and the dead. Gordrak estimated that somewhat less than half of his warriors were left alive. Gordrak swung his axe horizontally and cleared out a throng of undead pressing toward him. They all had rebreathers but any damage to their armor opened them up to the possibility of being afflicted by the toxic payload of the corals around them. As a result of that, Gordrak and his warriors had settled in to a slow but steady pace forward. They had to ensure they avoided as much coral as possible while going fast enough to avoid being bogged down. Ranged weaponry became prevalent for the Ultras while Gordrak continued to fight in melee several feet in front of his warriors. The idea was to pave the way for them while they protected the flanks.


As the advance continued, Gordrak sensed a feeling of urgency emanate from the tower. He knew not if Sethrak was the source or if it was something else. This forsaken realm and everything connected to it was foreign to Gordrak. Even the intricacies of the force were mostly lost on him. Still, he held no real contempt for Sethrak, despite the interaction between the two having been minor at best. Gordrak pressed onward, emboldened by the need for urgency. His body, despite its training and mutagen enhanced properties, wanted to give in. Years of fighting and enduring much had hardened Gordraks mind however, preventing him from doing so. As another wave of enemies fell to his axe, Gordrak heard a voice from behind. Unlike the ones he had been hearing, this one was real in the physical sense.

"Chieftain! We cannot hold them off for long. We're almost - "


"We continue onward. We must reach the tower."


"Yes, Chieftain."

​

Vorgar took a moment to regard his Chieftain as he pressed onward. He was younger than Vorgar was and possessed of an almost supernatural determination. Some had considered it arrogance but Vorgar knew better. Gordrak was simply stubborn and he committed himself to whatever objective he had set. Vorgar could only recount one or two instances where his Chieftain had either changed his approach or abandoned something he had planned. Whatever was drawing Gordrak to that tower, thought Vorgar, had better be worth the lives spent reaching it. He slid a new magazine into his lancer and glanced back toward the Ultras following behind him. He knew all of them personally, including those who had fallen earlier. He would see their glories remembered by all when this was done and over with. Assuming he survived that long anyway.

 

[Sethrak]

A sudden shift took The Warlock by surprise. Over the course of a few seconds he went from fading, to fading extremely quickly, to feeling more alive than he ever had up to this point. It was odd, but whatever was causing the feeling probably wouldn't last forever. Sethrak needed to take advantage of this. He jumped to his feet, his wounds barely aching at all as he did. He paused for a moment, expecting a pain that never presented itself. He was surprised, but time was of the essence, he was going to help Gordrak to the best of his ability.

The Warlock made for the steps, but ran into something that felt like a brick wall. He put his hands behind his back, catching himself, and pushing himself with such force that he rose to his feet. The invisible wall before him was no longer invisible. Instead he was staring in a mirror. The wall, was an identical image of himself. Confused, The Warlock lifted his left arm, but the mirror image did not. Instead it spoke, "You are Tenebrak. You have failed us all. Your sentence is death."

Sethrak immediately took a defensive stance, uncertain of what was happening. Meanwhile the clone charged toward him with a spear. The Warlock dodged left as the clone's spear barely missed his abdomen. Sethrak was unarmed, unlike this clone version of himself, and so he chose caution, moving away from the clone to get some distance rather than counter-attacking. "I am no traitor. I have sacrificed everything for this Empire, and when I escape this place, I will be the only thing keeping it together! You have failed!"

The clone rushed toward him again. This time it was expected. Sethrak grabbed the spear, letting it pick him up as his weight slowed the charge. With his hands around the spear, and the clone's charge disrupted, Sethrak pushed the weapon back toward its' owner, hoping to impale it with the blunt end. This failed, however he did force the clone back.

"You are NOTHING! You have betrayed our creed!" The mirror of the warlock shouted, as it twisted and pulled, trying to pry the spear away from Sethrak's hands. But the words had no meaning to The Warlock. That internal battle had been settled long ago. Now he was focused on the battle at hand. Without hesitation he released the spear, raising his left arm, and letting white-hot lightning shoot through his hand at the clone...but instead of lightning, everything went white.



Sethrak woke up with a gasp. His injuries hurt again, and the clone was gone. Additionally his head was pounding now. He didn't know what had happened, nor did he attempt to understand it. Instead he focused on keeping himself awake, hoping to avoid another blackout. Gordrak needed to hurry.

 

[Gordrak]

THEN
​

The Ultras had finally freed themselves from the Bendus domain. They had entered the toxic area with roughly half of their original number and now only a handful of them survived. The situation would have broken many of the lesser species that called the galaxy home but the Ultras stood resolute. Gordrak allowed himself a fleeting moment of pride upon seeing that. That moment slipped away as the remains of the strike force pressed further on toward their destination. This new biome or domain struggled against their intrusion as the others did. Now rocks comprised of Verikast and other Drael metals assaulted them with shards of razor sharp metal. In addition to the hail of metallic shards, the ground occasionally seemed to shift and send spikes of razor metal upward in an attempt to impale them. Finally, the dead who had been hounding them from the start were also present. The strike force had managed to get ahead of them but that gap would last only as long as their momentum did. The moment they stumbled or stopped, they'd find themselves swamped again.


A sudden eruption of metal forced Gordrak to stop as it thrust into the space just ahead of him. Not wanting to potentially throw off the flow of their movement, Gordrak surged forward and burst through the lance of metal. Shrapnel and chunks of metal flew everywhere whilst some also found themselves embedded within the vambraces of his armor. The armor itself was thick enough to prevent it from harming its owner. As he bore through whatever might try to bar his way, the other Ultras had to be a bit more careful. They all possessed armor that was quite protective but that armor was also lighter than his own. They could afford to dodge or go around obstacles provided they didn't waste time.


Vorgar followed behind Gordrak though he kept about 2 meters or so of distance. He had since run out of ammunition and had taken to using an axe like the Chieftain. The prospect of being skewered by the very metals and materials they wore felt oddly welcome to him. The fact they had a lead on the undead meant this was the only thing they currently had to worry about. They were also enhanced via Mutagens and dressed in full war gear. All of that assumed that they did not find themselves among the undead however. The Chieftain had not mentioned whatever was inside their destination. The original idea was that a weapon or power lay inside. Vorgar began to doubt that idea upon seeing his Chieftain pick up the pace so urgently. That and the fact Gordrak seemed distracted at times lead Vorgar to believe it was a being that resided within the Tower. Whomever or whatever called that place home was unknown to him currently. Part of him thought it might be Tathra himself but Vorgar quickly denied that possibility. No matter what might happen when they reach the Tower, Vorgar resolved to live and experience it himself.


All he had to do was make sure he didn't trip and die on a damned rock.

CURRENTLY

​

Gordrak stopped as he came upon the entrance to the tower. It was currently Vorgar, two other Ultras, and himself. The rest had fallen or were left behind. The Ultras and Vorgar were wounded by fully capable from a combat perspective. They were all reduced to their axes as they had exhausted the entirety of their ammunition. Gordrak himself was covered head to toe in viscera and gore. New gouges and damage also adorned his armor, some of which actually managed to penetrate fully. Despite the fatigue and battle damage, he held himself almost regally. Yes, a warrior king and his companions on a deadly pilgrimage in a foreign land. Gordrak snarled as he took in the outright enormity of the structure that currently stood before him. A strange feeling began to settle over the group. All of the suffering and bloodshed had almost guided them to this point. It tested them. Gordrak flexed his left hand, a trickle of blood flowing down his armored hand before dripping to the floor. Was it destiny? Gordrak didn't know the answer to be honest. All he knew was that every ounce of his being told him to continue onward.


Vorgar went to speak up only to be silenced as Gordrak placed his hands on the massive doors before them. At first it appeared as if nothing was happening and as he approached to assist, the doors began to open. Soon the imposing doors parted and allowed Gordrak and his warriors entry. The Chieftain turned toward Vorgar and the others and remained silent for a time. None of the Ultras said a thing as they waited almost reverently for their Chieftains words. "Come. Let us claim what this realm tries to hide from us." Gordrak turned back toward the doors and, without hesitating, stepped into the tower. The Ultras followed suit and as they entered, the massive doors began to shut.

 

[Sethrak]

Gordrak was in the tower, Sethrak could feel it. He just needed to hold on for a few minutes more. Just long enough for The Ultra to face whatever the tower had in store for him. For Sethrak it had been Hrajlmak, but for Gordrak, Sethrak was unsure what may present itself. He also didn't know if he would be affected by it, or if it singled out individuals. Time would tell.

For now The Warlock focused on breathing and hoped there would be no more challenges for him, for he surely couldn't survive them. It amazed him that through everything, he had kept his connection to The Force, and if anything it had grown stronger as time went on. Only his body had really been affected. Sure the mental toll of being trapped, and dying for so long with voices constantly whispering in his ear was noticeable, but he'd live. It was simply old wounds making a considerable difference. He could barely breath, he was cold, every movement sent waves of pain. That was the largest challenge he faced.

Between the mental assaults he had found time to rest, and reflect on his life. He couldn't say if he had truly changed, but he knew now that reforms needed to be made in whatever remains of The Bryn'adul Empire. But he couldn't focus enough to formulate any plans. Not yet. Later. No plans, just the idea that they were necessary, The Empire needed to adapt just as he had if they were to survive as he had.

 

[Gordrak]

...Betrayer...


...Liar...


...You killed us!...


...It should have been you...

​

Gordrak tried his best to ignore the voices. Their ascent had begun an hour ago according to his armors internal clock though he noted that the hour itself felt closer to an eternity. When he thought back on everything he had seen thus far, the concept of this realm warping time or his perception of it did not come as much of a surprise. The concept of an eternity alone with the voices of those long dead was something Gordrak desperately sought to avoid. He turned his head to the right and looked over his shoulder at Vorgar who appeared to be barely keeping up. "You are faster than that, old man. Keep up. " Vorgar snorted in almost offended manner before picking up the pace. As he took a position on the right side of Gordrak, he spoke in reply. "It is this place...It is...unsettling. I feel as if its only been minutes yet my armor says its been an hour..." So it seemed the older Ultra had also felt it. Gordrak thought to ask about the voices but refrained from asking any further. In his mind, whatever effects the others felt were their own burden. The rest of this wretched realm had tested them individually so it stood to reason that the tower would as well.

As Gordrak registered another hour, he turned to see how his Ultras were doing only to find them missing. Somewhere, in the indeterminate period of time since he had last seen them, they had vanished entirely. Gordrak stopped abruptly and readied his axe, his eyes scanning for enemies that simply weren't there. Turning around once more, Gordrak found himself face to face an abomination from Ylesia. As Gordrak beheld the beast, he came to the realization that it wasn't just the beast. He was now on Ylesia. The creature lumbered toward him quickly though something instinctual took hold within Gordrak as it went to strike. He angled his weapon upward and caught the blow it sought to rain down upon him, his counter coming almost lightning quick. Gordrak checked the beast backward and as it staggered, he brought his blade upward then down again with a murderous fury; the blades edge cleaving the abomination in two vertically. As the mutant fell, Gordrak heard a voice come from behind and, as he turned, he came face to face with a ghost.


Standing there in all of his seemingly living glory was Koldor, a fellow Baedurin he had once considered a brother. He had met Kol as he had taken to saying during the outbreak itself. They had fought for their lives together when the line had broken and their unit was overwhelmed. Gordrak had met Kol minutes before his other "brother" which was something Kol constantly held over said brother. Gordrak made to speak but was silenced first by another statement from Kol. "You always were a bastard, even then." Before Gordrak could muster a response, Kol thrust a fist toward Gordraks face. The blow wasn't fast but Gordrak couldn't move his limbs. They felt heavy and strange, as if they weren't his own and they belonged to someone else. The punch itself landed with more power and force than he could believe, its strength lifting Gordrak off of his feet. As he soared through the air, Gordrak felt his perception shift again and upon landing, he found himself someplace new. He stood as a newborn might: unsteady and barely able to muster the strength required to stay upright.


This was a place he had also been before. This was the shard of Draemidus that him and his brothers had been assigned to explore. They were one unit among several and, despite the likelihood of them being split up after Ylesia, they had somehow ended up together again. That was right: despite the odds they had survived and found one another again. As the recollection of brotherly bonding and shared memories flooded his still reeling consciousness, he beheld another voice. Turning toward the source, Gordrak found himself facing Vaergul, his other brother. "You only cared about yourself deep down. We were nothing but tools to you." No punch followed this statement. Gordrak fumbled to speak before finally getting the words out of his mouth and into the open. "That...not true...brothers-" A thunderous crack rang out as Gordrak fell backward. Vaergul approached the fallen Gordrak, the smoking barrel of a Pulverizer in hand. Vaer pointed the weapon at Gordraks face as a grin crept across his face. "Could kill you here...take your place out there...nobody would care." Before he could answer, the weapon fired again and Gordrak found himself someplace else.


Despite his senses being disrupted, Gordrak instantly knew where he was. It may have been a facsimile but it was one of a place that had been ingrained within his very being. His very soul bore the mark of this place. Kreeta City Marketplace. Gordrak rose to a knee first, his hands and eyes searching for a bullet wound that didn't exist. After he was satisfied, he stood and beheld the place that had taken everything from him. Fallen debris from the buildings was held aloft and suspended mid air whilst soldiers belonging to both sides fought an endless battle. Around the fighting stood a sea of the dead: their burning bodies standing motionless as they simply gazed at the perpetual carnage that would never end. "You betrayed us. You took us for granted." Kol spoke from Gordraks left side. "We gave you our lives. You forgot about us. You erased us." said Vaer from right right. Both brothers walked forward and, after several feet, stopped. The brothers then simultaneously turned to face Gordrak at the same time, their previously pristine appearances now replaced by mauled, haunting visages. Vaer appeared to have been torn apart by the dead; massive chunks of flesh had been forcibly torn from his body. His armor hung loosely from his ravaged body, its form similarly warped and beaten. Kol, on the other hand, was burnt severely and his limbs sat awkwardly. From a glance, they had been broken and twisted beyond repair. His face was an absolute ruin that showed more skull and bone than it did flesh.


The brothers spoke in unison now, their mangled bodies projecting equally tarnished voices. "You belong here, with us. You know it. From the moment you survived, you've been destined for this place." Gordrak couldn't believe what he had seen and heard. The worst part of it all was that they spoke truly. There was a point after the battle that Gordrak believed he was dead. Physically he may have been alive but something important had died. He had thought the feeling conquered but it lingered there like a cancer, eating him alive slowly. "The torment can end. All you have to do is join us. " All he had to do was join them. It would be the easiest thing to do. All he had to do was give in and -- A feeling suddenly struck Gordrak harder than any punch or bullet. He shook his head and took a step backward, the brothers tensing as he did so. "I will not. I wont." An eruption of anger, like roiling magma, began to surge forth from the core of his being. This realm had sought to trick and lull him into complacency with half truths and sentiment. He had thought himself dead and he did consider joining his brothers once. Fortunately, when that happened he remembered the truth of it all: they had chosen to die. They pushed him away under the pretense of saving him.


"You chose this." Gordrak remembered it clearly now. They chose the fate that had befallen them. "You betrayed me." Gordrak had wanted them to continue fighting but couldn't bring himself to say anything. He realized now why he couldn't. He snarled and reached for his axe instinctually only to find the weapon on his back. He drew the massive weapon as the brothers drew their glaives. "We could have fought together but you prioritized my life over your own." The brothers looked at one another for a time before responding in unison. "Lies. You were weak and - " Gordrak interrupted them with a furious shout then he charged.

--- --- ---

​

The doors to Sethraks chamber opened slowly but surely. As the large doors parted, Gordrak entered the chamber with Vorgar right behind him. Aside from appearing somewhat haunted by what he experienced, Vorgar was in decent condition. Gordrak was also changed though, unlike Vorgar, he found himself almost unburdened by what he had experienced. As the two Ultras entered the room, Vorgar ran ahead and began to asses Sethrak. "Get him ready to move, old man. I want to leave this place as quickly as possible."

 

[Sethrak]

Sethrak had survived.

Gordrak was here, and with him a single Drael, older than Gordrak from his looks. This was confirmed when The Ultra referred to the other one as "Old Man". Sethrak didn't ask questions as the older Drael attended to him, though he had many. Instead he welcomed Gordrak. "Gordrak, my brother, it is good to see you well." He was his brother, technically biologically as all Drael were cloned from Tathra, but more so a brother in arms. They had been through much, most recently Danuta..."The Last Battle"...but they had known eachother vaguely since The Outbreak at Ylesia when The Warlock was chased by undying Bryn, similar to what he was faced with here. Then there was Sev Tok...the disasterous assault led by Tathra, where a bomb devastated the Bryn forces. Sethrak remembered it well...the fear of wondering if Osam, The Lothal Guard, Tathra...his brothers...had survived.

While he hadn't always fought side by side with Gordrak, they had certainly been in many battles together. But Sethrak knew his name, and his deeds. Gordrak was a Juggernaut Ultra, some of the most elite warriors The Bryn'adul Empire has to offer. These warriors were trained to speak basic as well as their native tongue. They were also allowed to use foreign technology, something Tathra did not allow most to do. They took orders directly from the chieftain. Their numbers were few, but Sethrak was confident that an army of 300 Ultras could take on a force of 3000.

He gasped as an unexpected, sharp pain appeared in his left arm. He looked down to it and found he was being injected with something. He didn't ask what. Immediately he felt stronger, the pain was fading and he had a burst of energy. Clearly the injection was some kind of adrenaline or steroid to numb the pain.

Soon he would be able to get out of this wretched place once and for all. Then he could return to The Bryn'adul Empire and help finish the crusade.

 

[Gordrak]

Gordrak watched as Vorgar attended to Sethrak. He wasn't familiar with whatever agent was being injected into the warlock but it seemed to be doing its job. Once the drug began to take effect, they could leave this forsaken place and never return. As Gordrak turned to observe the area in greater detail, Sethrak spoke. Gordrak snorted in an almost amused manner when he heard the word brother. Yes, they were clones and the statement was technically true. Still, Gordrak found the comment amusing for some reason. The fact they were different sub-species or strands likely played a part in that. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I came here for a weapon only to find my 'little' brother half-dead. Tell me, why did this wretched place keep you alive?" Vorgar turned his head toward Gordrak and nodded before standing up. He quickly left Sethraks side and took a position on Gordraks left. As he awaited an answer from Sethrak, Gordrak turned his attention back toward the chamber they were in. He had bested the tower earlier and yet nothing appeared to have happened. He had found a long-lost brother but after everything that happened, he expected there to be more.


As if on command, the mangled apparitions of Vaer and Kol appeared. The two revenants were situated on the far side of the room and they stared at the group silently for a time. Without speaking, the revenants moved apart from one another as a tear in the fabric of reality appeared between them. The tear grew until it was large enough for all of the surviving Bryn to walk through. A sense of familiarity emanating from the portal gave Gordrak the impression that it was their way out of this hell. The two Revenants shared a final look with Gordrak before kneeling. Whatever had happened earlier, the trio showed no signs of continuing the animosity they shared. Rather than exit immediately, Gordrak opted to instead wait for Sethrak to continue. If anyone was going to know for sure the portal was safe, it'd be him.

 

[Sethrak]

Gordrak's inquiry made a half grin appear on the Warlock's face. "It didn't." He would explain everything to the juggernaut later...once they found a way out of this hellhole. At least, everything he could remember, and the few things he seemed to have figured out. It wouldn't be much help though, and he much preferred to learn about the current status of the Bryn'adul. Things were bleak when he entered his "hibernation", but a lot could have changed.

Then the portal appeared.

Sethrak somehow knew it was safe. It was a gut feeling to the untrained Drael. But to Sethrak he knew. This was The Force, it was encouraging him to enter this portal. It wasn't the same as The Arena, which called any warriors to it, where they would die. This was different and it was real. "Enough." He raised a hand to Vorgar. Slowly, he rose to his feet. He was sore but the injection was working well. "We are going through that portal."

Without further hesitation, The Warlock stepped into the tear in reality.