Standing Above [The Primeval]

[Boethiah]

The planet of Gulamendis was considered an epicenter of death and carnage, the corrupted Sephi who made their home there laid waste to the helpless victims that journeyed there. The few who knew of the world were namely smugglers and pirates who frequently -- sometimes reluctantly -- traded with the High King and his devout followers. Above it all was The Primeval Fleet; deliverers of prophecy who to the Gulandi believe are the prognosticators of death and destruction. For Anja Aj'Rou and her zealous fleet this was the first world to join the cause and all others before merely fell to death and fire, leaving behind nothing but ash and horror. The destructive tendencies of these contenders have transformed them into unlikely allies, both clearly devout and seeking retribution on a grand scale. If anything the Lost Gods of the Primeval faith were hidden away in the depths and darkness that is the abyssal construct of space. Somewhere in this retched galaxy of warring factions, countless races, and lush vibrant worlds was there awaited transcendence.

Longing for it all -- for salvation and victory. This was the goal of The Primeval, the objective of an ongoing crusade born in exile. There was no squabble in politics or society, those who disobeyed were punished; many most severely. Perhaps then there lied a hidden meaning to these disciples of darkness, a truth that bore no lies and did not hide from anyone. A startling reality; they were conquerors with no direction at all.

Pyrrhus Alet -- captain of Order's End -- took command at the starship's helm. On the bridge, the command deck, officers were busy deciding charts and discussing strategy. Their fleet was preparing for the inevitable onslaught. A large-scale invasion but where? Whom would be the first to fall before these turbulent warriors? What great empire would stand before them, or who could stand against them? There was no sense of fear amongst the leadership. Failure was not an option for no apparent reason except that it never mattered. If they failed, they did and that was that. Eventually another Host Fleet would find its way and do what the previous could not or fall to a similar fate. There was no eerie-nature or wondering towards what happened to their last efforts. It could of been a number of anything but their leadership merely accepted the fact as divine providence. Those who fair were of course unworthy and those who were unworthy had no importance towards the grand scheme of things. So when Pyrrhus Alet, a former slave, took command of his Host Lord's starship; it became painfully clear that much of their successes or otherwise would burden his faith. If he was unworthy, he would die, and thus someone would take his place. That someone was likely his second-in-command a young Umbaran officer by the name of [member="Naja Ardiln"] , and unlike Pyrrhus she was not born a slave. Regardless of her past fortunes -- or misfortunes -- she was already on the fast track to recognition amongst her superiors, groomed for command as all seconds were. If the first died then someone more competent was to take their place. The natural order was survival of the fittest whether or not it was understood, that was a well realized fact.

Anja Aj'Rou looked down to the two officers, one a Captain and former slave of her household, the other a rising second who solidified their tactics and explored new and innovative solutions to their efforts. If there was one thing their fleet lacked it was youth; most of the seniority were old and with that set back in their ways. Of course conservatives were expected amongst a fanatical regime that ignored all matters of the socio-political nature but that didn't mean there weren't progressive members. Anja was quite progressive, rather than digging in she planned to spearhead her way to their target.

A shadowy figure approached their highmost leadership, handing a small datapad to the Host Lord. Anja reviewed the subject, passing it back without a glance or notion of acknowledgement. The figure left as quickly as it entered, going back amongst the many servants who humbly stayed in her presence.

"Pyrrhus, it seems the hyperdrive has gone untested...", her voice was echoed by the speaker system that networked itself across the bridge. Her arm brushed lightly from the seat of her command chair and allowed her hand to rest upon a particular lightsaber. This one was property of her most recent captive Jedi. Leather bands and beads adorned to the metal device. She wasn't particularly knowing of such things and in result her curiosity was peaked. With eyes glancing between the weapon and Pyrrhus the other deck officers were quickly preparing to make a jump to lightspeed so that they may conduct a test on their hyperdrive.

"Yes, your worship. We're on it now.", the respectful human that was Pyrrhus Alet spoke swiftly, looking to Naja to assure that she knew her routines. Anja had become particularly intrigued by the Umbaran woman as per the bias their race had for one another but even still she was a promising member of their staff. "State your name.", no acknowledgement to her person was made but for Naja it would be clearly toned that the voice of her Host Lord was directed straight towards her. Anja glared down from her high perch, awaiting a response.

 

[Lune777]

Naja returned her superior's look with what was undoubtedly a nod of respect as she hurried to ready the ship, as well as its crew, for hyperspace: though he was human, she knew to honor the man's rank and position in the Primeval Fleet, though perhaps only because of the knowledge that Pyrrhus' position could, one day, become her own. That would take time, of course, and Naja was hardly prepared to fully command a ship as it was. It certainly couldn't stop her from dreaming, though, as well as continue to attempt to win the appraisal of the ship's captain and--perhaps most of all--the Host Lord [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] through her efforts and contributions.

The Umbaran woman was brought back from her thoughts as a voice--one Naja immediately recognized as Anja's--rang out from behind her. "State your name." The short statement boomed with confidence, almost demanding in its tone. Without hesitation, Naja replied.

"Naja Ardiln, your Worship. What is it you wish?" Taking a few seconds to attempt to gain a calmed composure, Naja turned just slightly to be able to face the Host Lord directly, and quietly tapped a foot against the bridge's smooth metal flooring. Some could mistake it as a nervous gesture--it was, however, nothing but a habit that she had picked up throughout her years of command, one that she found incredibly annoying, though there was little she could do to prevent it. Patiently, she clasped her hands behind her back, and waited for the Host Lord's reply.

 

[Boethiah]

Few - even officers - would ever glance back when answering the Host Lord; to see one face her directly was a bold factor. A sudden hush came about those capable of witnessing the event unfold, Pyrrhus Alet himself swallowed harshly as his pupil of sorts did so. It was rare enough that Anja ever spoke to anyone other than himself; so there was truly no way to know what would happen next. A subtle smirk curved in the corner of Anja's mouth from the audacious gesture of a secondary officer; whether or not it was intended.

"My question was answered.", the venerable lady responded with a hint of respect. The other deck officers neared a sigh of release whilst a few others who wished to see humiliation begrudgingly went back to work. It had seemed the interaction had concluded -- if only a few seconds had passed -- as it always had on the Host Lord's terms. So it might've come across sudden that she continued the peculiar engagement, "How do you feel about current course of action?", the second question had presented itself in regard to the Host's recent decision to include the corrupted Sephi into their military might. A few of the Executors - high ranking staff - had been quietly questioning the motives of High King Ozuvyn for joining The Primeval and perhaps some the Host Lord for even allowing it rather than burning the planet like previous ones. Of course it was without doubt that their colloquial motto would be 'Join us or die.' in action towards anyone they encountered but that did not mean they would accept an entire planet and its people as equals, or even granting their High King the status of Harbinger; a title reserved for the chosen ones.

Once again only a few seconds have passed and her hand gripped around the lightsaber almost subconsciously, her ties to the force were beginning to surface like invisible mandrels of dark power shadowing the ship in raw and untamed power. It was clear that something in the blade was drawing her to it, something about it was attuned to the force itself regardless of recognition towards the device. Unaware of the focusing crystal inside one might believe other means have caused the force to imbue its energy and she unwillingly left a footnote with her touch.