Wrath of the Titan
"The Chieftain? Dead? How foolish. The Great Conqueror lives within all of us. He is the guiding light driving us forward across the stars, his will is eternal. It drives us forward despite oblivion knocking down our doors, despite destruction descending upon us like a hurricane. I reject such ambition and consider such a notion a challenge to our species to dare look at his mantle. The Chieftain uplifted me to stand beside him, he charged me to carry out his word and will, to see his dream fulfilled across the stars with fire and fury. I hear your rumors of his fall and reject them. In the great hall, beneath the throne of bone I knelt, and he annointed me Rakvul the Darkener, Warlord of the Bryn'adul Empire, Wrath of the Titan. I recognize no authority but the Chieftain. I shall stand for our fallen empire, I will prosecute my final standing orders until the Chieftain calls me home."
- Name: Rakvul
- Aliases:
- The Darkener
- Titan's Wrath
- Chieftain's Executioner
- The Tower
- Colossus
- Birthplace: Draemidus Prime
- Occupation:
- High Warlord (Bryn'adul Remnants - Independent) - Currently
- Warlord (Bryn'adul Empire - Appointed by Tathra Khaeus) - Formerly
- Wrath of the Chieftain (Bryn'adul Empire - Appointed by Tathra Khaeus) - Formerly
- Residence: Aboard the Scourge
- Species: Draelvasier
- Sub-Species: Baedurin
- Age: 76
- Gender: Male
- Height: 10'6" / 314cm
- Weight: 2.6 tons
- Physique: Brutish, Muscular, Armored, Physically Imposing, Augmented
- Skin Pigmentation: Deep Crimson
- Eye Color: Molten Gold
- Markings: Numerous Scars
- Force Sensitivity: None
- Force Alignment: N/A
- Kills:
- Beast of Battle: Beware all who stand before the Darkener. Even among the vicious standards of the powerful Draelvasier species, Rakvul stands out head and shoulders above the rest as a sight to behold. Even as a Baedurin, Rakvul has become known as the Colossus for his sheer size is far beyond even the greatest specimens of the Baedurin that have been seen. To all he is a living, breathing siege engine, a beast of carnage that was genetically built for terrible destruction, augmented far beyond what should be possible. The scars of war marr his form in a way that would baffle even the greatest medical doctors, enduring wounds that shouldn't have been possible even for his hardened hide. To those among the Draelvasier society he has been compared to a war beast, his horrific strength is a thing of legend for its many reported feats.
- More than Monstrous: Looks can be deceiving. Despite his appearance, within the mind of this giant is a great intelligence, a true strategic genius who was personally commended by the Great Conqueror, Chieftain Tathra Khaeus himself. Rakvul was anointed the Darkener by the Chieftain during the height of the Bryn'adul Empire for his incredibly successful record of military conquest, and the sheer amount of worlds burned at his hand. Rakvul is a true living master of warfare with incredible skill at analyzing a battlefield, determining the best course of action, as well as swiftly learning and adapting his strategy. As a tactician he was widely celebrated by his people for being able to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat. The forces under his command were always the most well trained, well disciplined, efficient fighting forces.
- Hand of the Chieftain: Beyond his physical gifts Rakvul is a true student of battle that has obsessively pursued internal perfection. Even among the elite of his kind he truly stands out as a deadly killing machine with incredible skill, proficient with every weapon his people have at their disposal and a true artist at wielding them. Beware all who cross his path for he was uplifted by the Chieftain himself, his abilities recognized by the throne and personally assigned missions of grave importance. Many have underestimated the skill of this warrior only to fall victim to his prowess in battle.
- Beast Master: It is widely speculated among his kind that either through his augments, or his sheer size that he must be some sort of living war beast. For Rakvul has maintained a stunning ability to maintain control of a staggering number of beasts. This ability has impressed many and baffles the greatest imagination at how Rakvul is able to maintain such solid control regardless of the beast. Even after the fall of the Bryn'adul Empire Rakvul has maintained control of a staggering amount of war beasts, far more than any other Warlord, and those who encounter the returned Warlord often attribute this to his direct skill.
To understand Rakvul the Darkener is to understand what remains when an empire dies but its purpose lives on. He is not a soldier. He is not a brute. He is the wrath of a god-chosen species given form, the burning echo of a war gospel written in fire and ash across the stars. Rakvul's mind is a forge: every thought, every word, every strategy is shaped by heat, tempered in discipline, and pounded into the iron of purpose. He is a relic of a crusade that has not ended, because he refuses to let it end. The fall of the Bryn'adûl Empire did not shatter him, it purified him. In its smoldering ruins, he was refined into something more than Warlord, more than soldier. He became the executor of legacy, the final edge of a blade forged in Tathra Khaeus' image, a will carried forward not by hope, but by conviction carved into bone.
Rakvul is a creature of unfathomable discipline. Everything about him, from the way he walks, slow and deliberate, to the way he speaks, low and rumbling like tectonic pressure, conveys an almost monastic control of the monstrous power caged within his massive form. Though he is the size of a siege engine and bears a physiology that could crush tanks beneath his heel, there is no wildness in him. There is only precision. His fury, when unleashed, is not a berserker's chaos, but a methodical, calculated annihilation, each movement purposeful, every strike measured for maximum devastation. Rage is not his master. It is his weapon, sharpened by decades of war and wielded only when needed. He is not moved by insult, not stirred by provocation, for he knows his strength is not in raw destruction, but in unbreakable purpose.
Above all else, Rakvul is defined by his unshakable loyalty to Chieftain Tathra Khaeus. His devotion borders on religious, though he would scorn such weakness as dogma. To Rakvul, the Chieftain is more than a leader, he is the living embodiment of the Draelvasier destiny, the father of their purpose, the architect of their future. The idea that Tathra could be dead is not blasphemy, it is impossible. The Chieftain lives so long as his will endures, and Rakvul is its executor, its vessel, its unrelenting sword. To suggest otherwise in Rakvul's presence is to sign a death warrant, not because of insult, but because the mere thought is a threat to order. The Great Conqueror appointed him Wrath of the Empire. To Rakvul, that appointment was not political, it was sacred. And so he wages war not for vengeance, not even for his own survival, but for continuity, to ensure that the design of the Chieftain, that pure, divine design, is never undone by the weak, the treacherous, or the forgetful.
His interactions with others are cold, precise, and governed by a deeply ingrained martial philosophy. He does not waste words. He does not tolerate inefficiency. Rakvul demands strength, not merely in body, but in thought, loyalty, and focus. His officers, many of them remnants from the fallen empire, serve him with a fearsome blend of awe and fear, for they know that to disappoint him is to vanish without ceremony. And yet, Rakvul inspires not through fear alone, but through presence. When he walks through his ranks, all fall silent, not because he demands it, but because his very aura suspends noise. He is not a loud man, but a loud fact, a living myth that makes those around him feel small, unworthy, desperate to prove themselves. For many among the remnants, Rakvul is the last symbol of legitimacy, the last proof that the Bryn'adûl did not fail, that the Chieftain's plan was not in vain. To follow him is to find meaning in survival. To stand against him is to be reminded why the Empire rose in the first place.
There is a sadness in Rakvul, though none would ever hear it spoken. It lives in the spaces between orders, in the long silences aboard the Scourge, in the way his molten-gold eyes linger on distant stars when the blood has cooled. It is the sadness of the last titan standing in a dead pantheon, the quiet knowledge that those he once marched beside are either dust, dead, or worse, traitors. But Rakvul does not mourn aloud. He does not indulge in regret. He turns the weight of that grief into armor, into motive, into a deeper silence behind his every command. His loneliness is bound to duty. There is no home for Rakvul except war, no peace for him but the one forged by conquest. In the final tally, even he knows his fate will not be survival, but completion. He does not seek to live. He seeks to finish the sentence that the Chieftain began. When his final orders are carried out, then, and only then, will he rest. Until that day, he remains incomplete, an unsheathed sword waiting to be returned to its scabbard.
Others may claim dominion over the Draelvasier. Others may rise in the vacuum of their broken empire and claim the mantle of warlord, of chieftain, of leader. Rakvul watches them with cold detachment and righteous fury. To him, they are not rivals. They are defilers. Pretenders. False prophets building upon the bones of a sacred dream. He has made it his personal crusade to destroy them, to ensure that only those who carry the Chieftain's word without dilution or ambition may live. And if no such beings exist? Then Rakvul will stand alone. As he must. As he was chosen to.
He recognizes no throne but the Chieftain's. No law but his will. No god but the fire of conquest. In every sense of the word, Rakvul the Darkener is not a survivor of the Bryn'adûl Empire. He is its unfinished sentence, a punctuation of war, a living monument to order, purpose, and the terrifying clarity of obedience. In a galaxy that has moved on, Rakvul stands as the reminder of what once was, and what might yet come again, should the Titan ever call his Wrath home.
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| Biography |
War.
It flows like blood through every Draelvasier, propelling them forward across the stars. The legend of Rakvul the Darkener begins as one of many Baedurin hatchlings. As he grew to maturity he swiftly became one of many within the Juggernaut Corps, eager to forge his place among his people and build his own legacy. To all it quickly became apparent that Rakvul was destined for something more, something greater. Rakvul rose swiftly, bristling with ambition his eyes were always fixed on the horizon. It was evident to everyone that he wouldn't settle for mediocrity. Rakvul had true gifts, the kind that were seen once in a generation and his rise burned so bright, even the Chieftain Tathra Khaeus took notice. As the Draelvasier fought for a place among the stars, he rose ever higher until the foundations of the Bryn'adul Empire. Rakvul was officially recognized by the Chieftain and appointed to the title of Warlord, one of the highest-ranking military leaders within the empire, the Hand & Wrath of the Chieftain who bestowed upon him the mantle of the Darkener.
It was clear to all that Rakvul possessed a loyalty to the Chieftain that was zealous in nature, a love and admiration that ran deep into the very soul. Rakvul prosecuted the will of his liege across the stars, burning countless worlds in his name and leaving nothing but tombs in his wake, bringing to the fore a true reservoir of strategic brilliance that Tathra Khaeus could come to rely on to steer the ship forwards into the future, as the Bryn'adul continued to conquer and carve out their own stellar empire against all odds. But the pendulum of war inevitably swung in favor for their opposition. Against impossible odds despite the Darkener's efforts the Bryn'adul Empire fell, shattering into pieces in a devastating conflagration that consumed the entire Draelvasier race. The Darkener found his forces cut off, separated from the whole of the empire and his chieftain. In the ensuing cataclysm communication broke down and as a whole, to the Draelvasier race he was presumed dead, earning him a place in legend as the epitome of what a Draelvasier should be, of what Tathra aspired to create.
But unbeknownst to all the Darkener was harder to kill than anyone had realized.
Despite the galactic powers descending on the Bryn'adul, despite internal strife through civil war and the reported death of Chieftain Tathra Khaeus, Rakvul lived. Those under his command survived. Rakvul rallied any remnants he could come across, as one of the last surviving true Warlords annointed by Tathra himself, and the sole surviving Wrath of the Chieftain. Rakvul refused to believe that the Chieftain had fallen, refusing the calls of many to claim the mantle that many believed belonged to him now. Instead? Instead, he continued to carry out the last orders given to him by his Chieftain. Rakvul fought his own bloody civil war across the stars declaring that in the absence of the Chieftain, he alone bore the ability to answer challenges on behalf of Tathra Khaeus. Any and all Bryn'adul who dared to rise to claim the mantle of his liege were annihilated. While a farcry from the galaxy burning, vast legions once at his disposal, Rakvul maintains one of the largest standing, most well equipped Bryn'adul Remnants in the galaxy. There are many warbeasts under his command, and a vast number of the Zealot Corps that were rumored to have died along with him.
Rakvul recognizes no other superior authority but the Chieftain and waits for his liege to call him home.
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