Dominion Bryn'adûl | Dominion of Ankhypt

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Four
Objective: Partake in An'shaerneghm
Tags - Tathra Khaeus | Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok |

There was wisdom in Tathra's words, Drek'ma responded with a nod. Sometimes Drek'ma and his kin would forget that their Chieftain was some eight decades ahead of them in seniority, other times it was obvious. His perspective was so different, not so much different as more refined - expanded, even. He saw things they could not. Over his life-span, Drek'ma had seen so many Draelvasier acquire great potential; only to squander it with foolish mistakes.

As he thought of such loses, it seemed as though the force had summoned an example to them, a Marauder no doubt but one watched with careful distaste by the Ish'makra. Following Kesh and Maldra, their had been a focus on Hraelga from the Enforcers as well, her attitude was.. displeasing to those more prudish and stringent in regards to professionalism. But until recently she had made up for it in her tenacity.

Drek'ma's hidden grin faded as his eyes lingered on the Marauder; unflinching and emotionless. Drek'ma rarely ever made a show of emotion, with a few exceptions. The Primarch responded with a nod when Hraelga greeted the Chieftain. No doubt the Shaman had come to speak to Tathra, that was not his business. Without so much as a word, Drek'ma turned away - his staff clicking against the ground with every step.

He'd find Hrajlmak and see what this was all about. Eyes scoured through the main feasting hall, seemingly not present. He was no doubt rousing trouble among the higher ranks of their Order. He could sense it.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: Enjoy the Anshaerneghm
Post: 3
Tags: Tathra Khaeus Primarch Drek'ma Hraelga Nacht

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The table was loud. Spirits were high and the discussion had no shortage of opinion. Hrajlmak eased into his seat, the slow deliberate motion exaggerating the various pains and stings he felt across his vessel. He was sore. His cloak tattered and his carapace distressed. When he looked the Ish'makra delegates up and down, he saw only perfection. They might as well have been marble busts. Gredak's words carried through the enthusiastic collection of voices present. Hrajlmak looked across the table and stared at the Zealot for a moment with a curious demeanor before waving his hand at everyone present and mouthing almost theatrically,

Passion

The Shaman sat next to Hrajlmak, who had been doing much more thinking than he had speaking, leaned over. Hrajlmak moved his own neck slightly.
"The delegates don't look pleased." The young shaman nodded his head inconspicuously toward the more high-brow among the table who were there to represent the Ish'makra. There were three of them in a row. And they certainly looked bored. Almost disgruntled.
"Not surprised" Hrajlmak murmured abruptly. "Going through the proper channels seem-" "The proper channels?" Hrajlmak interrupted and cursed to himself. "And subject myself to the will of the wise hm? No. Our war-machine needs something new. It needs flexibility. You think I have a chance with them?" Hrajlmak motioned dismissively to the delegates. He leaned in closer, "With the Primarch?" Hrajlmak looked across the table and shook his head while he drank. The young shaman tapped his finger on the table absent mindedly. "I like the idea. It makes sense. My only concern is if you don't plan on talking to the council.." Hrajlmak interrupted again, "If you agree, then agree." The younger semed to begin to speak, stopped himself. "..I agree". Hrajlmak smiled a sharp, toothy grin. The younger sat back again and resumed his drinking.

 

[Galak]

Tags - Tathra Khaeus
Post: Three

The bluff didn't work.

Galak ducked, sluggish as he was; under the swing of the younger, faster Brute. Everyone who saw him move could see how weak he still was. But that didn't make Galak any less ruthless, in the heat of the moment that was all he could be. He'd dodged the first strike, punching the Minor in the stomach; he jolted back - surprise in his eyes. Perhaps surprise at how little the attack had done. His joints ached, sweat beaded on his forehead.

He didn't want to kill the younger Brute, if he was any stronger he would've been able subdue him. But that wasn't an option, as the Minor darted for another swing Galak brought up his right arm; firing off both of his wrist mounted blades right into the chest of the Minor. Both large blades pierced through his armour, another look of shock - disbelief. The Brute staggered, falling on his back. Galak walked over to the corpse; the two blades were snuggly placed back into their respective holsters on his arm. Nobody expected it, but everyone no doubt saw that Galak had no intention of being a pushover.

"Anyone else?!"

Galak bellowed out, looking around the tables. The response instead, a cheer. He didn't expect it, a surprise - but a welcome one.

 

[Kad]

Objective: Partake in the An'shaerneghm festivities
Post: Two
Tags - Hrajlmak'Natok | Sarask Hiskt | Primarch Drek'ma |

The discussion seemed to die down as Hrajlmak sat down now, sitting among those likeminded. How very undraelvasier. Divided into parties and pointless discussion, if Hrajlmak really believed himself so righteous, believed in his cause so much, why tarry so long? Gredak shook his head as the pair of Shamans spoke, his Zealot training allowed him to listen in - partially.

But if the Shaman believed their order to be so systemically flawed, the tenants demanded that he unseat them. This was no bureaucracy of human indecision, it was their way. Quick and efficient. Delegates, high brow, seniority. It didn't matter, every Draelvasier had earned their rank in some fashion. Gredak killed anyone in his way, perhaps he was a hypocrite for giving a damn about some tenants and not others. But, he knew sitting around and doing nothing but complaining wasn't going to draw the right kind of attention. At least, not the kind he was looking for.

Gredak simply chuckled to himself, laughing. Hrajlmak would either succeed or go down for another year or re-education.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Partake in the An'shaerneghm festivities
Post: Five
Tags - Primarch Drek'ma | Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Galak | Osam |

Tathra nodded to the Marauder as she bowed, waving off the Primarch as he departed. No doubt he intended on dealing with Hrajlmak personally, whilst every Shaman was of course responsible for themselves, the Primarch was responsible for all Shamans. As was Tathra responsible for him and every other Draelvasier. If either neglected their subservient kin, they would not be doing their duty to the Bryn'adûl.

Duty was on the Titan's mind when he finally returned to the Marauder in front of him. The small talk bored him, it was sycophantic and transparent at that. Tathra saw through it and didn't care much for what laid beneath. Eyes staring through the Marauder - the promotion had made her bold. Tathra reclined in his seat, looking past Hraelga into the distance, spotting the commotion with Galak.

Interesting.

Galak had arrived, yet no sign of Krael. Strange. Opaque aureate eyes returned to Hraelga, faint disdain washing away shades of brick red to be replaced with deep maroons in his complexion. One could say a sunny deposition was lost, the Titan leaning against his left elbow as it pressed into the arm rest.

"What is it, Marauder?"

 

[Sarask Hiskt]

Objective: Steal something from Hrajlmak’s plate.

Post: 2

Tags: Hrajlmak'Natok Kad

It seemed as though the fight between Shamans was soon to close. She tilted her head, before glided her way over toward the commotion. They appeared to be debating something. It didn’t matter all that much to Sarask. One of them she knew of, but never particularly spoke to. Hrajlmak, of the Shark Head. If he couldn’t protect his food, he wasn’t’ deserving of it, nor of his position. She wasn’t envious of her ranks, nor did she seek to supplant it. She just wanted to eat without having to sit down.

And so it was she evaded the merry festivities around her, dancing around warriors standing up and walking around to their tables. She ignored questions and only barely glanced at fights behind her caused by the sudden disappearance of morsels from their plates. Like a ghost, she moved ever closer toward the Shark Shaman’s part of the table. His long, crystalline left arm rose. Stealth was indeed her forte, but in this instance, it would be unfair to use it. It wouldn't make sense. The whole point was to see if they could see her. Using the Force would be cheating. Using the force in this instance would make her dependent, lax. No.


She took special note of the man as he began to sit back down. If she took something while he was sitting down, she may be able to get away with it. She sped herself up, then slowed down again as she began to walk in from his left, behind him.


And thus, she reached forth, in an attempt to snatch a piece of meat (or drink) from the Shaman’s plate, aiming to continue to move without skipping a beat, as though it were the most casual thing in the world. As though it were hers, to begin with.

 

[Osam]

Post 3

The Sraelvun had not expected to receive any substantial praise from Hraelga Nacht for his actions. He had encountered her twice before in the past, with their first meeting involving a number of threatening gesticulations and implications. Clearly, she had deigned it necessary to prove her superiority by commanding him to take hold of her blade in order to demonstrate the fundamental benefits that could be given if a drone chose to be subservient, never to rise above their measly station. Osam considered these things in brief and blunt thoughts, where the minds of the more articulate were like chisels striking stone until a beatific statue of thought had been created, the Sraelvun major's mind worked more in the fashion of a sledgehammer shattering a mountain's face. Progress was brutish and slow, but eventually, something of worth was carved.

Instead of the superiority complex that had been expected by the Sraelvun, however, he found what might have passed for genuine appreciation for his murderous talents. She acknowledged the implement he had coated in the viscera of death, taking it from his hand, and perhaps putting it under some degree of scrutiny. Afterward, she made the unusual request of knowing the drone's name. The Sraelvun, being numerous and savage by their very nature did possess short names for one another, but these were seldom necessary for use by the superior kin, often being supplanted by rank or else by simple 'drone' denotations.

The surprise didn't end there, however, as Hraelga made note of his potential for growth, interrogating him as to whether or not he would find it suitable to be greater than his kindred, elevated above the typical station of their ilk. There was the offer of zealot training, and while Osam didn't know much about the intricacies of such tutelage, he did recognize that it was an opportunity which was certainly seldom offered to Sraelvun. Expecting the opportunity to be taken away from him like so many chunks of meat, he spoke immediately, elation leaking out of him. "I am Osam. Will come to Grand Hall."

Perhaps satisfied with his answer, or else finding it necessary to deal with other business before their appointed meeting, the superior granted him the privilege of retaining the bloodied kukri, stating that it would serve as his proof of worth. Osam believed that it would be entirely necessary for his acceptance into the Grand Hall or its surrounding areas so that he might find the Baedurin he sought. Satisfied with the conclusion of the interaction, he cast his eyes back towards the waiting meat and the spectating Sraelvun brethren watching him from the dark places of the residences.

He would feast and his kin would join him... but he wouldn't reveal what had been offered him... not yet, lest their jealousy drive them to rage and challenges.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: Enjoy the Anshaerneghm
Post: 4
Tags: Sarask Hiskt

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Hrajlmak was beginning to feel the pressure of Ankhypt's hot climate. His flesh was not suited to this world and time spent here was beginning to do its work on him. It got him thinking. His genetically inquisitive mind got to work processing possible solutions. He phased out for the time being, contemplating. But just as he began to lower himself to his chair, his peripheral vision filled with an invasive figure. What good were six eyes if they weren't granting four times the visual advantage over your peers? The hand quickly and elegantly reached and snatched a hunk of flesh from Hrajlmak's domain. The whole motion had to be appreciated. A moment without focus and he would have missed such a move. He gripped the arms of his chair as if he were about to sit but instead forced the chair back, intent on ramming the shady thief behind him.

 

[Sarask Hiskt]

Objective: Steal something from Hrajlmak’s plate.

Post: 3

Tags: Hrajlmak'Natok Kad


Sarask hissed appreciatively as the back of the chair rammed her side. Her crystalline skin protected her (mostly) from the brunt of the force given by the shaman, of course, she more expected her arm being grabbed. The force of such a blunt blow sent her to the right. She raised her arm to use the back of another Bryn’adul member in order to stabilise herself, pushing the unfortunate other one’s head into his own meal. Of course, he was going to get up, but before the unnamed brute could get up, she snatched a piece from the edge of his plate.

“Good.” Was all she said to the ramming Shaman, her voice scratchy, rumbly.

Perhaps it was time to return to the cooling chamber. She gave a glance to Hrajlmak to see if he was intent on getting up while still keeping her hand on the back of the struggling one on his plate, before aiming to move off back to whence she came, unleashing the now rather miffed warrior or shaman from the confines of that which he sought to eat.

 

[Kad]

Objective: Partake in the An'shaerneghm festivities
Post: Three
Tags - Sarask Hiskt | Hrajlmak'Natok | Primarch Drek'ma |

"Kkrrrgh!"

Was the sound of Gredak's head being shoved into his plate of Edemarian worm fillet, he had been mid-conversation but even then it was a massive slip-up for a Zealot Elite. Gredak pushed away the hand as whoever'd just humiliated him seemed to retreat. Gredak rose, bursting from his chair - Spiker drawn. He immediately recognised the notorious Zealot Shadow. It wasn't enough that he'd been overpowered, but by one of his own kin and a Shadow at that.

"Get back here, Shadow coward." Gredak growled, deeply offended. He couldn't look weak, his position was already precarious. As a Zealot Elite, he had to been as valuable; feared even. He would not take this slight. He raised his Spiker aiming it at Sarask.

Likewise, this would be the perfect opportunity to get on Hrajlmak's good side.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Four
Objective: Partake in An'shaerneghm
Tags - Hrajlmak'Natok | Sarask Hiskt | Kad |

The Primarch made his way through the barracks, following the smell. Not of food, but rather a feeling. When guiding ones eyes through the force, everything had a distinct smell, a stench. Their own kind included, every being had a distinct aura that permeated through the current. It was just a matter of knowing what you were looking for.

Turning a corner, Drek'ma found himself witnessing a crude situation. A Zealot Elite with his weapon drawn against a fellow Zealot, and a table in disruption no doubt roused by Hrajlmak who was also present. Drek'ma would not intervene, not his domain. Glimmering golden eyes stared at the Shaman, those at the table turned to see the Primarch; silence overcoming the bluster as his unexpected arrival froze some.

"Please, recommence. Shaman Hrajlmak..."

Drek'ma moved at a slow pace, the tap of his Staff against the floor announced every step.

"Do you have something you'd wish for me to hear?"

 

[Galak]

Tags - Tathra Khaeus | Hraelga Nacht
Post: Four

Galak felt almost impossibly tense, unable to sit quite on his own until one of his brethren handed him a mug and sat him down for him. He hated killing his own kind, especially that of the 10th Regiment. They were supposed to be kin, and he understood the younger Brute's rage. But he did not appreciate being its focus, he sighed - taking a swig of the Ale to rest his nerves.

"I'm fine." He blurted, forcing a confident look of dominance to his face as he raised his mug, joined by his brethren - celebrating the victory. If one could even call it that.

The sooner Krael showed up, they could get this audience with the Chieftain over worth. He felt guilty, that sentiment lingered in his mind. He just wanted to retreat to his lodgings now. He wanted to be alone when he should've felt honoured to even have been noticed. Maybe the Brute he'd just slaughtered was right, he should've died on the battlefield of Kesh. The notion swept away any pride or appetite he had in that moment, staring hard at the table. Not at any detail in particular or any imperfection, just the table.

Just needing to fixate on something, anything.

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

Objective: Partake in the celebrations
Attire: Standard Zealot outfit
Post: 3
Tag: Osam | Tathra Khaeus | Hrajlmak'Natok | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma

Giving the Primarch a respectful nod, Hraelga looked at the Creator, her eyes golden and unflinching even in his presence, not because she was brave or bold or anything like that, but simply because at this moment, she was certain there would be nothing to comment on in regards to her accomplishments...or her failures. Tilting her head a bit to the side when the Primarch left to be about on his own business and duties, the Marauder looked at Tathra Khaeus with her eyes slightly squinting as she clacked her tongue in amusement. She had after all, an amusing thought, one she thought she could share with the chieftain, hopefully amusing him and satiating his curiosity a bit.

"Let me first give thanks to the bounty of this feast sire," Making a somewhat graceful bow, rather unusual for a Draelvasier to even display such grace, after which she leaned a bit forwards, clacking her tongue again,as she showed her sharp teeth with what seemed to be akin to some sort of grin, hard to tell when all that moved were really her eyelids. "I had this...thought. During the last campaigns, some of the drones have displayed a certain level of cunning and strength which is in my opinion beyond the levels of their brethren. Might I be allowed to take these drones under my command in order to form a more...specialized unit?"

Hearing Galak's loud voice rumbling through the air from afar, Hraelga cringed for a moment, almost wishing she could shut him up personally, though she doubted the Creator would be anything but pleased if she would go for Galak's taunting challenge at this point, hissing under her breath "annoying brute". Yet ignoring it further, she tilted her head to the side again, while looking at the Chieftain. "You seem...slightly bored, sire..."

 

[Krael Vizkla]

Decency: Leather Kilt
Post: #1
Tags: Tathra Khaeus Hraelga Nacht Galak

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The Battle of Kesh had brought heavy casualties to the forces of the Bryn'adûl, casualties that had not been ignored, that had hit like a crashing Star Destroyer, and left tremors not unlike. These tremors still pounded through the Bryn'adûl on this day of celebration. Especially on this day of celebration. For the An'shaerneghm was a time to honour the fallen as much as it was to relish in victories. No sacrifice was in vain if it fuelled the Engines of War that drove the Draelvasier Forces onward.

Looking back on these thoughts from his current position, they might make a good motivational speech, if Krael was the type for speeches, which he was most certainly not. Wondering thoughts spawned by those seated in their own tables could not be entertained long, not as a large crowd began to gather round a fighting pit. As heavy metal gates began to rise, to release the gladiators, none could miss the event. Technically speaking, Krael was not late, infact, this was his first fight out of ten he had time for.

As the gate rose completely, the 6 metre tall, four armed, four eyed monster that had once been Captain Krael Vizkla emerged from the darkness from whence he had waited. His burgundy carapace unmatched in it's deep colouring, his eyes shining a blood-red that could drive fear through the heart of a Draelvasier. He glared down at his opponent, a Brute Heavy, not one he knew, who had obviously thought a more equal fight would occur, perhaps against a lesser Baedurin. If he had wanted fair chances, he had come to the wrong pit. For this pit had been explicitly reserved by the Aeravalin that had overseen the mutation of the Captain into a Ravager Brute that could retain their mind.

The Baedurin opponent had balls, if nothing else, for he charged unarmed at the towering figure without fear, leaping up towards the titan. His leap was cut short, however, with a swift right hook that sent comparatively tiny, orange-carapaced 'Heavy' crashing sandstone pillars and into the ground roughly 50 metres away, with a large amount of his bones either broken, fractured or otherwise destroyed. The next opponent was a Nexu, not an uncommon creature in gladiatorial arenas, yet not worth the time of the Captain, who simply stepped grabbed it as it pounced on him, and crushed it against the arena wall. A Gundark was released next, though it fared no better, with it's torso, arms, and head all in several peaces, and not necessarily in that order. Several mores opponents were sent in, yet all failed.

The most interesting event was saved for last. As the gates opened, an impressive specimen of Rancor slunk it's way in to serve the same fate. The Rancor's appearance got a snarl from Krael, before the large Draelvasier launched himself at the beast, knocking it into the wall before dodging a wild swing from the Rancor, who then lunged at the Draelvasier. Krael's lower arms grappled with the beast as they turned in a slow circle, they continued this way for several moments before a low and quiet roar, almost a loud growl escaped from the cage, as the Captain backed up from his play fight, the Rancor having dealt a low blow.

Krael stumbled back into a wall, a moment later, as the Rancor had charged again, Krael's lower arms grappled with it as they had before. However, this time Krael began pushing back, while his upper arms gripped the rancor by the biceps, then pulled, ripping the arms off the rancor, then gripping it by the shoulders, and throwing it back into the arena's wall, where he advanced upon the beast. The ground around the arena shook as if a dropship had just crashed into it, several times, definitely more than 50. For every time the ground shook, so was another blow delivered into the skull of the Rancor by an enraged Vizkla.

When the beast was positively dead, Krael gripped the head, ripping it off, spine and all, throwing it down. He then raised the body up with a savage roar, and tore it in two.

And so the arena battles ended. Minutes later Krael was making his way to the table where the strongest of the Draelvasier sat, drank and ate. His protective kilt had now been ripped into shreds, exposing much of the crimson carapace it covered, though it was not disappointing in terms of body mass. The Elite Ravager Brute approached the table, blood trailing heavily behind him, and pooling at every pause in his step, though the blood was not his own.

As he finally reached the table, the Captain inclined his head respectfully, and said nothing, his body refusing to kneel or bow to his 'superiors', a genetic flaw rather than a conscious flaw, a side effect of the mutation. However, his lack of speech was a personality trait, and one that served well.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: Partake in celebration
Post: 5
Tags: Sarask Hiskt Kad Primarch Drek'ma

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Hrajlmak felt his chair collide with the thief, followed by a hiss. Gredak shouted out and Hrajlmak gripped the thief by the arm that held his food. He opened his mouth to spew what he assumed would be threats and abuse when the silence behind him and the towering Drael in-front of him promptly had him close it. A brief moment of nervousness shot through him before he composed himself, let go of Sarask and brought his hands behind him. Murmurs resumed at the table behind him at the behest of the Primarch. Hrajlmak moved forward and met Drek'ma at a halfway point. They both came to a stop only just out of earshot of the table. Hrajlmak gave a bow and a customary punch to the chest.

"Primarch..." Hrajlmak paused to articulate his words. "Discourse among the table regarding the Shaman order. The younger generations are becoming restless. They yearn for a greater purpose. It has been an exciting debate". Hrajlmak crossed his arms in front of him. The Primarch was a force to be reckoned with on and off the field. His mind was as strong as his body, if not stronger. The cognitive prowess of his superior wasn't lost on Hrajlmak. He knew what he was doing was under the table. Dangerous. But to him, it was a necessary path. How this conversation carried itself would determine Hrajlmak's immediate future. His next words weighing life or death was certainly no joke.

 

[Sarask Hiskt]

Objective: Partake in the An’shaereghm festivities

Post: 4

Tags: Hrajlmak'Natok Primarch Drek'ma Kad

It seemed as though the head she had pushed was a little more belligerent than she thought. Furthermore, a hand reached to grab at her arm. She swiftly manoeuvred the obvious attempt to hold her as she flicked one of her weapons up so he grabbed the handle instead. Then she could kick, punch and so forth while the other one was still drawing his weapon. However, it wasn’t to be as it seemed as though the Shaman had become distracted, letting go of it.

She could then focus on the zealot with a spiker. She rose her hands in a ‘peaceful’ gesture, though it came off as more of an arrogant swagger as she walked backward, moving herself to the left, more in line with Hrajlmak. “Mind surroundings. Lest struck in back.” She said in a grounded voice. Fighting was an option. But he had a spiker, and she didn’t.

She’d continue to move backwards, keeping the Shaman as between her and Gredak as possible. Should she manage to make it so far, she’d even start doing the same for the Primarch, dancing around the slow staff-wielding elder as she continued to try and distance herself from the situation.

 

[Galak]

Tags - Tathra Khaeus | Krael Vizkla
Post: Five

Galak raised his Ale to the Ravager Elite as he arrived, sitting several tables away. Galak grunted, taking a swig. It was about time, no need for flaunting in the ring when you were summoned. Was the disrespect intentional? Maybe not. But it was disrespect all the same. Krael was different, and was getting promoted for different reasons. He was a blunt instrument, Galak couldn't claim to think particularly highly of him.

All the same he didn't question the Chieftains decision. If he believed Krael to be worthy of promotion, of the rank of General - then so be it. Galak had no interest in being in a position to decide the ranks of others such as Krael. Even if he was Galak's subordinate, he wouldn't pit that against the Chieftain's word.

The Brute refilled his drink, taking another swig; listening in to his comrades exchange of stories and belligerent discussion. Strangely, it made him feel out of place. Even though he knew he was as much a Brute as any other.

 

[Kad]

Objective: Partake in the An'shaerneghm festivities
Post: Four
Tags - Sarask Hiskt | Hrajlmak'Natok | Primarch Drek'ma

Gredak snarled, holstering his weapon with the arrival of the Primarch. The snivelling Zealots eyes remained locked with the Shadows, still arched over like an animal as he spat on the ground.

"Next time then, mutant." He spoke with such venomous hatred in his tone, so watantly insulted, so easily offended. The Aeravalin was insulted, terribly so.

He wiped the food off his face, thankfully he hadn't been wearing his helmet. The Shadow had done him a great insult and he wouldn't soon forget it. He looked around to the others, still grinning; "Enough of that, you slime!" He threatened, hand on the sheathe of his Kukri as he stared down those at the table.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Five
Objective: Partake in An'shaerneghm
Tags - Kad | Hrajlmak'Natok | Sarask Hiskt |

The Primarch placed his free-hand behind his back, the other idly held against the Staff. Eyes, face; all held in a passive composure as his subordinate spoke. He stared right through Hrajlmak until one single word came; GREATER. Greater? No - different. Hrajlmak knew not of what he spoke, at least not to the extent he assumed. Drek'ma's eyes finally fixed on his subordinates, acknowledging him.

"Greater? Your intent is unclear Shaman." He had no wish to disclose all he meant, he did not know if he could trust Hrajlmak, the Ish'makra had more doubts than he himself. The Chieftain could be persuaded in either direction.

Drek'ma hoped his interest was truly in the benefit of all Drael, not himself and a few others. "What do you truly want, Hrajlmak?"

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: Partake in celebration
Post: 5
Tags: Sarask Hiskt Kad Primarch Drek'ma

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The Primarch broke straight through to the point. There was no deliberating with him. Whatever game Hrajlmak wished to play was gone now. But there also seemed no danger. The water's had a predator but it was hidden for now. Hrajlmak reciprocated the glare and kept it strong while he spoke.
"Nothing beyond the fulfillment of my purpose. The Great Conquest goes strong. It is my duty to keep it that way. As Shaman and Draelvasier".
Hrajlmak felt the Primarch's towering eyes burying into him. The size between them helped non in giving him a sense of confidence.