Private A worthy contest

[Grundark]

Another broken world among hundreds, and normally Grundark wouldn't give a seconds notice. He wasn't here for the conquered though, he was here for the conqueror. A monster among Sith as the cragmoloid had heard it put a thousand times. A creature of rage who battled with titanic strength and conquests to match behind him. Oh and how it made his battle lust boil. Win or lose it didn't matter. It was the fight which was so important. That singular moment when he truly felt alive, and he needed it deep in his soul.

As he stepped out of the transport he sniffed the air though his might trunk as he looked over the new colony. These were a strong people he'd heard, a warrior race based on conquest. There were many different types of warriors though. As he walked into the open he saw no reason to wait or play it simple. With a mighty trumpet he announced himself as he looked around the room. "Where do I find the one called called Krag, or as the Sith call him Darth Vulcanus? I wish to test my strength against this one for my warrior's honor."

He'd said enough in his mind to make all things perfectly clear. This wasn't about life or death. It wasn't about claiming what the Graug had even on the level of this small colony. This was about something much more important then all of that. It was about a warriors pride and honor, and to Grundark that was everything.

Darth Vulcanus

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

The Inferno
Warrior's Skin

The fire had long since faded, replaced now by the pillars of smoke and debris as The Graug went to work restructuring the landscape of Zygerria. The skyline of the illustrious slave capital had already begun shifting irreparably from what it once was. The towers of the great palace of the Zygerrian queen had been demolished, their foundations shattered and peaks brought to the earth in great clouds of destruction. The apartments of the nobility and the elegant pyramid-like architecture quickly dissolving behind sharp edges and wicked obelisks. Even the landscape beneath and around the city had not been spared. Already massive gorges were being dug, the ground ripped asunder by the many digging claws of Folloik Draagha - their endless work sending plumes of crushed rock into the open air.

But most wicked of all was the pained groaning of the the slaves. Those who had lived under secret slavery of the Zygerrians now found themselves beholden to much darker masters - masters who cared not how pretty their skin was kept or how much value they would hold on the market. The lash and endless toil was all that awaited them now, them and the ones they used to call master. What Zygerrians had failed to flee into the wilderness or off the planet had been doomed to one of two grisly fates, death or enslavement. Those of the latter category moved about the Graug colony in somber crowds, their eyes devoid of life and their bodies scarred and bloodied by lash and claw - ghosts who drew breath but did not themselves live.

This was the world upon which Grundark landed. When he set out his call it would be heeded by a contingent of Graug warriors who encroached upon him like a rising sea of darkness. A handful became dozens. Dozens into well over fifty until the beast of a warrior was set upon by a gnawing sea of ravenous Graug. Out from amid them came one taller and leaner than the rest, his head capped by an anvil shaped helm.

"You are a brave one, lesser - coming here to challenge the Great Burned God" the priest hissed, stopping several feet from the beast, "your strength is nothing compared to his divine flame. Perhaps we should save you the indignity and tear your limbs from your body right here"

 

[Grundark]

Fodder surrounded him as Grundark waited for their master until finally one stood forward to greet his challenge. This couldn't be the Graug he'd heard of, but maybe there was more myth then truth here. Perhaps this wouldn't be worth it after all. Then it spoke, and if anything that made it worse. The Great Burned God. Were these creatures so little as to elevate one of their own to godhood, or was the Sith so proud he claimed the title himself. No matter, they were not worthy, but if he needed to silence them to get to their 'god' that wasn't a problem either.

Pulling free an enormous hammer he pounded the ground once before roaring out a trumpet of battle. With that he charged into the fool who would dare to call him lesser. He didn't even bother to hit him, just skewered him with a tusk and continued to run as the battle lust took him. With laughter he began to swing shattering bodies and skulls with each swing of fist or hammer.

They scored their own hits but those were irrelevant to the Cragmoloid, and nearly unfelt as the force fell like a tidal wave through his body hardening it. Fine they wanted a god, he would fight another god then, but first he would sacrifice his people to him until this god decided to show himself.

Darth Vulcanus