The Primarch, Azarak Drek'ma
870ABY
Kardun - Heart of the Warmind
The last meeting of Tathra Khaeus and Azarak Drek'ma:
Deep within the sphere of the Warmind, a gunmetal malabast platform surrounded by railings extends out from pillars, diagnostic terminals. A research hub composed of minimal scaffolding. At the edge of the platform, stood the towering figure of Primarch Drek'ma. Unfazed and focused on his work, hands alight with powerful energies and magicks - hues of vibrancy dancing in intricate designs of his creation. Ahead of him, a creation that even made the Chieftain's skin crawl. A massive, dormant creature. A super-weapon, capable of domination on a scale beyond imagining. Under the Primarch's influence, it would twist the very nature of beings to serve the whims of the Draelvasier. It would end the Civil War, and it would lead the rebuilt fleet against the Outer and Inner Rim.
Tathra was shaken, having seen Galak for the first time in the Civil War. He had expected it sooner, Tathra expected the Civil War to come to an abrupt end years ago. But no, here they were - wasting time fighting each other. That was the worst part, thinking of the Warlords and the Ish'makra leading on their own, the Tachael largely absent. Pitted against the Galaxy. Today had been one of the bloodiest battles of the war yet, over a billion dead on Yar-haral. The third moon of Kardun.
"Titan." The air was still as Tathra leaned against a railing, brooding and mulling over his thoughts.
"Azarak." It was almost without thought, referring to him by his given name. Since the Civil War began, no one had been closer to him than Azarak. He tried to fill the whole left behind by them all.
Galak.
Sethrak.
Osam.
Even long dead Hrajlmak.
That gave the old Shaman pause, Tathra could see it in how he slowed. Stopping.
"Lord Khaeus, do you wish t-"
"Have you made progress with your Warmind?" Tathra broke into speech, rising from the railing to turn to Azarak. Who, was keeping an eye on both his work and the Chieftain now.
"Yes." An answer he hoped would satisfy him. It did not.
"When will it be ready?" Tathra's question was a tight rope between a demand and a plea. He had had his fill of killing Draelvasier. This was not just like the genocide of the ancients. This was tedium. A sad waste.
"I cannot stress enough, how important diligence is to this project." The Primarch was sympathetic to his wants. But, an unchecked Warmind posed a danger to not only the Draelvasier but living things in all places. Only under the control of the Drael, would its use be just and right.
"I'm aware. You've told me enough times."
Tathra moved from the railing, standing behind the towering Aeravalin. The Primarch stopped his work, turning to face Tathra. Even standing nearly a foot taller, Azarak had never felt it. The way the Chieftain held himself, he never seemed small. Not in ambition nor stature. Azarak could see that his armour was freshly cleaned, though dried blood still covered nearly inch of the suit. Filling in small gaps, running from decals. Tathra could never be clean of Drael blood again, he had soaked in so much.
"When I am done, this war will be over. And the traitor will die, knowing he meant nothing." Azarak spoke with his chest, clearly eager himself to use the full might of the Warmind.
Tathra winced at the comment. After all this time, Galak was still his brother. They all were. He could not help for all his hate but feel a measure of responsibility for what had taken place. Had he been stronger, the division would not have came to be.
"No Drael means nothing, Azarak. All those Heretics are where they are because of me. I am their creator in more ways than one." Tathra walked closer to Azarak now, standing by his side and staring off past him into the black depths below.
"That's true of all Draelvasier. You think I'd be standing here, doing this? looking like this? Were it not for-" Drek'ma recognised what he was. Accepted it.
"I know, I made you into a weapon. Your life is war because of me." It was Tathra that could not accept. Could not help but see his failure in all Draelvasier.
Galak would've become the new Chieftain once the war was over. When their campaign against the aliens of the Galaxy was complete, the son he had never thought to have would have led their kind into a new era. Beloved, trusted. If he could not preserve the zeal of one of the greatest Drael, how could he have ever done anything right with the others? Deep in thought as he was, he overlooked the hurt in Azarak's voice.
"No you helped me, all of us - realise our potential. You saw greatness in me, liberated it from its shackles and set me forward on a path of righteous conquest. You saw yourself!" Azarak boasted! Placing his hand on the Titan's shoulder.
"You like so many others, you think I am some great visionary. That I started this all with good intentions, that I did it all for us. No. I made you. YOU. Because I was angry, because I wanted to hurt the humans, the aliens. I did it because I wanted control I could. All of you made the vision real. Not me." Tathra sunk his head into the stained chest plate of his armour, feeling all of his weight in the palm of his hands resting against the railing.
"You are wrong. Tathra Khaeus is a Hero. You may be a Draelvasier like the rest of us, but Gods ARE flesh. You are our Chieftain! You are everything we believe you to be. We fight because you do. Because you keep fighting. Your drive is unmatched. Your achievements, unmatched. Your skill is unmatched."
"Then why do I feel like I have failed?"
"Have we?"
"What?"
"It's not just you, old friend. Have I failed? Have we all? When you took on the mantle of Chieftain, you stopped having the luxury of I. Did all the Drael who died fighting for you waste their lives? Have I wasted mine in service of you?
"No. Never."
"Then as you say, no Drael means nothing."
"Indeed."
