Character
Objective 2: Follow the tenants
Post: Three
Tags: Tathra Khaeus Galak Hraelga Nacht
One of the concepts of their prey that the Aeravalin had spoke of within his presence previously was that of love.
As far as he could best understand, it was a form of loyalty and respect that was given, regardless of merit and entirely ignoring logic. It was a biological weakness for the chemical reaction that they had so titled love was given to those who carried a similar bloodline and genetics to the subject, even if it was a wretch devoid of honour or strength. When he had heard it, Fomoris had scoffed, another example of the pathetic weakness that was inherent to other races but now, turning to face his creator, he wondered.
The chieftain was perfection of the Bryn’adûl image, slaughter incarnate and a figure of such deadly intent, even Fomoris felt the disgusting taint of reservation, perhaps even fear within his body.
Long had he wished to stand before the great Alpha of his people but not like this, not with blood lingering in the air and not one drop of it was spilled by his hand. Meeting the burning gaze that promised the galaxies end, Fomoris thundered a massive fist to his chest in salute.
“Brute Minor, I am named Fomoris, Chieftain. The General and Marauder both held conflicting opinions on the next course of action, both paths held merit and both were unyielding in their certainty and so tested to see whom held the stronger conviction for it is the strong that we follow.”
While it was the truth, Fomoris did not add that the path that the Marauder would have had them take was slick with Baedurin blood but he also would not lie to protect the Aeravalin.
Held fixed by the stare of his leader, Fomoris revisited the idea of love as he had been told. He did not love Galak, whom he would have followed into any slaughter or firefight. He did not even love his Chieftain for whom he would have taken any bullet or blade for. If either ever showed weakness to the ideals of their people, Fomoris would attempt to end their existence and likely die in the attempt. But that was also part of what he truly loved, the idea that the strong lead and the weak bleed.
What he did love was the Bryn’adûl.
Post: Three
Tags: Tathra Khaeus Galak Hraelga Nacht
One of the concepts of their prey that the Aeravalin had spoke of within his presence previously was that of love.
As far as he could best understand, it was a form of loyalty and respect that was given, regardless of merit and entirely ignoring logic. It was a biological weakness for the chemical reaction that they had so titled love was given to those who carried a similar bloodline and genetics to the subject, even if it was a wretch devoid of honour or strength. When he had heard it, Fomoris had scoffed, another example of the pathetic weakness that was inherent to other races but now, turning to face his creator, he wondered.
The chieftain was perfection of the Bryn’adûl image, slaughter incarnate and a figure of such deadly intent, even Fomoris felt the disgusting taint of reservation, perhaps even fear within his body.
Long had he wished to stand before the great Alpha of his people but not like this, not with blood lingering in the air and not one drop of it was spilled by his hand. Meeting the burning gaze that promised the galaxies end, Fomoris thundered a massive fist to his chest in salute.
“Brute Minor, I am named Fomoris, Chieftain. The General and Marauder both held conflicting opinions on the next course of action, both paths held merit and both were unyielding in their certainty and so tested to see whom held the stronger conviction for it is the strong that we follow.”
While it was the truth, Fomoris did not add that the path that the Marauder would have had them take was slick with Baedurin blood but he also would not lie to protect the Aeravalin.
Held fixed by the stare of his leader, Fomoris revisited the idea of love as he had been told. He did not love Galak, whom he would have followed into any slaughter or firefight. He did not even love his Chieftain for whom he would have taken any bullet or blade for. If either ever showed weakness to the ideals of their people, Fomoris would attempt to end their existence and likely die in the attempt. But that was also part of what he truly loved, the idea that the strong lead and the weak bleed.
What he did love was the Bryn’adûl.