Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Charred Sins of Chiron

[Primal Architect]

The Bryn'adûl | Charred Sins of Chiron

The Bryn'adul rage through the systems, Chiron burns as what remains of the Sith forces on the planet are hunted, slaughtered. They have lost this war, and now the fleet trapped in its atmosphere will be decimated by our united force.

Their cities lay in ruin, billions buried in the very earth by the Servitors wielded by our Shamans. Sith Lord and their apprentices slain by Warlocks of fierce calibre - their armies decimated by endless hordes of Savages and the might of Zealots, Juggernauts and Risen-Srael united.

United as the Titan's Fist.

Objective: Fleet Battle
Above the burning plains of Chiron, a supply run of Sith vessels has been trapped in the atmosphere of Chiron. Destroy them, send their burning corpses into the earth.

Objective: Predator and Prey
They are scattered. Hunt them down, ensure none can survive. Find them in the woods, in the remains of the destroyed cities. Find them and wipe them out.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Predator and Prey/Fleet Battle
Post: One
Tags: Ostak Cl'mana | Sethrak | Argaloth | Ver'kad Inuk | Badar |Ect

The Servitors had already done their duty, the civilisation that once marked this world long dead and buried. The Sirracus Wyrm's travelled through the dense flora, searching for the fauna. Droves of Savage Drones travelled in packs of thousands, roaming the open fields as the remainder of their enemy ran for their lives. Drek'ma watched from on high aboard the Siege Tower its hundreds of guns ploughing through the open stretches of land where the Sith held out for as long as they could.

Smoke an ash filled the air for hundreds of metres upward, hundreds of thousands of corpses filled the blood-soaked fields as far as the eye could see. Their final battle a wretched and muddy one, but at the very least they stood their ground. Drek'ma looked to the sky as the various siege towers spread across the surface turned their Capital grade Ballista's to the sky.

"Let us assist our naval brethren." The Primarch spoke, eyes shifting upward toward the sky.

One with aptitude to listen could hear not the battle but the churning metal. The shells of their turbolasers, the blistering heat of their engines running hot. The Ballista's of the Siege Towers fired upward into the sky, coated in Radesh Oil - cutting through the enemy shields and spearing dozens of their vessels.

 

[Sethrak]

Post 1
Objective B

The warlock's footsteps were soft on the broken concrete and cobblestone. Behind him were some twenty Drael, mostly srael. The city had been bombarded by artillery and the fleet, but there were survivors. Sethrak would see to it that they perished. He could sense life up ahead, though he couldn't quite tell where it was other than in front of him.

The city was completely destroyed, buildings were reduced to piles of rubble. Roads were unrecognizable, with spider-web cracks and chunks missing. Large chunks of shrapnel and still-warm metal were scattered, and fires were everywhere. Where there wasn't fire, there was smoke. Beyond ruins, there were bodies throughout the city. In some instances, there were wounded Sith up against a pile of rubble, or laying down in what used to be the road. These wounded Sith were quickly dispatched with a spear through the chest, or a knife through the throat.

But they weren't the ones that Sethrak sensed. He sensed a much larger group. He didn't know how large, he wasn't trained enough with The Force to know, but he assumed it'd be around thirty troops.

That's a lot of troops but it'd be a one-sided fight. Sethrak had felt more powerful than ever. He constantly had rage in the back of his mind. Rage at his enemies, his fallen kin, his foolish attempts to overthrow Tathra (and the failure of those attempts all in one battle). That rage fueled him, every day, every breath. When he fought, it made him an unstoppable force and an immovable object. He was a Titan.

And so, any moment now they would find the Sith, and he would kill them. He would give them mercy for they were weak, pathetic, and foolish.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: I
OBJECTIVE: B (Predator and Prey), deliver combat reports to Tathra
LOCATION: M'gaelak Siege Tower, Command Center
EQUIPMENT: Ceremonial Shaman robes
TAGS: Primarch Drek'ma | Sethrak | Tathra Khaeus

There was a frenzy of activity within the vast command center of the M'gaelak.
​

It was controlled by the Primarch himself, a figure whose immense talent never failed to astound Ostak. Even as a seasoned Overseer and Shaman, he doubted that he would ever be able to defeat such a titular figure in single combat. Fortunately, the two had no reason to fight each other. The reports from his Enforcers and the Enforcers of other Overseers had revealed an unmarred loyalty to Draelvasier tradition, and Ostak was honored to serve in the same Tower as the figure who now directed part of its armaments into the space above, as indicated by the nearby battle feeds.

While the Primarch controlled and directed the Tower's basic functions and had supreme command, it was Ostak who had been chosen to coordinate remaining ground operations related to the Tower. He had been chosen due to his seniority and experience, and he had performed his duty effectively for the past two hours, bombarding the scattered Sith units with ruthless efficiency.

"The Chieftain fights along with us." stated one of the Tower's communications officers. "As per protocol, I believe it would be imperative for you to deliver him a report on the planetside situation, Beast Master Ostak."

"Thank you for the reminder, Officer." replied Ostak. "Let the Primarch know that I will be temporarily departing my position to deliver the aforementioned report, and spread the word that ground command is changed to Beast Master Jil'mak."

"Yes, sir!" replied the officer.

Ostak sat up, detaching himself from his command seat and pivoting around until he faced the exit doors of the central room. Then, he walked out, communication stone in hand. The Chieftain had surprised the Overseer on numerous occasions in recent campaigns, first delivering a crushing defeat at Yurb, then poorly handling the execution of a heretic, and then restoring the mantle of leadership as he lead the Draelvasier to conquer numerous formerly Sith systems, including this one.

When the pair finally met, they would certainly have a thorough discussion.

​

 

[Ver'kad Inuk]

Post: One
Tags: Badar
Objective: Fleet Battle

There was a moment of silence, in small corners of space one could find quiet amid the chaos. This was one of those few precious moments. Silence however was irrevocably broken when the powerful centre beam of the Divine Brutality cut through one the Sith destroyers guarding the supply cruisers.

The red beam cracked through the ship, shattering it like cardboard as hundreds of smaller internal components flew outward from its orbital wreckage. A smaller ship, a defending blockade runner was caught in its central beam as well. The blockade runner wasn't outright destroyed but it was caught in the crossfire. Smoke and flame rose from the damaged ship as it careened to the side.

Ver'kad watched, pleased with their efforts thus far. Their reformed naval force was of much greater efficiency than what had preceded it mere months ago. They had taken control of Lothal to Cholganna, establishing a blockade - a banner across a star systems and across the edge of the newly captured Silver space. There was nowhere for the Sith to run, they were caught in the grasp of the Bryn'adûl. They had dared to strike so deep into a superior races space, and now they were paying for it.

"Launch the Debauchers, I want those cruisers vulnerable."

 

[Osam]

Post One
Objective A

The shuddering of the Debaucher underneath his foot and all around him was enough to cause Osam to fidget. There was something exceptionally uncomfortable about having his destiny stolen away from him by such transports. The idea that he could be eliminated along with so many of his brethren simply because one of the plasmatic cannons lanced through the flesh walls around him and sucked them all into the depths of space - that all of his merits would amount to nothing all because of something he had no chance whatsoever of preventing.

His weapons were fully loaded and his armor had been tightly attached to his body. Previous checks had all but made such truths certain and absolute in his mind, and in spite of his nervous anxiety, he had little desire to check over the equipment again and again and again. Instead, he simply closed his eyes and thought of the forces far below on Chiron's surface. He thought of how the Primarch would certainly have summoned forth some cadre of monstrosities and pets to bring silence to the feeble lives of the Sith. He thought too of the other mighty Seers among the ranks of the Bryn'adul, and how they might scorn any attempt by the Sith to regain their footing.

Risen-Sraelvun too flooded into his mind, image after image of what his kindred looked like when they fought, and when they died. He hoped that his brethren were... there was no safety in war, but he wanted them alive nevertheless. Whatever injuries and setbacks they suffered, he expected that he'd be able to meet with his kin later in the night and discuss the operation in detail, listen to their stories of camaraderie and fury. Yet for now, there was a battle to be won, and a conflict to end.

He opened his eyes as the jolt of the Debaucher made it clear that they'd arrived at their target.

 

[Galak]

Post: One
Objective: Speak and be Heard
Tag: Primarch Drek'ma |

The Siege Towers, magnificent M'gaelak creatures. He had often only saw them from afar, it had been a long time since he'd actually been inside one. But now he was, looking for the Primarch. He remembered their conversation on the Shard of Draemidus.

They had seen it coming, seen the eventuality of the conflict unfolding and had sworn to each other to stand-fast, stay strong. An oath birthed with a Seer as witness, and it had to their credit earned them small victories. The unity shared between them was only a small part of a greater instrument. A small part of a greater unity among all Draelvasier that saw them win the day.

Galak's footsteps echoed as he made his way to the helm of the Siege beast, finding the Primarch atop the creature.

"Primarch." His fist moved to his chest, nodding to the powerful force user. Drek'ma had been essential at both Ankhypt and Nar Kreeta, and nobody would forget that. He was as powerful a force user as he was a great warrior also.

 

[Keldothera]

Objective: Fleet Battle
Tags: Ver'kad Inuk | Badar | Primarch Drek'ma |
Location: Boarding enemy destroyer

The Debauchers had landed, delivering forces of six-hundred strong onto the various Sith Destroyers. Demotion units under her direct command, the interior forces wore silver gilded armours, different than their landing parties. They had to use Xaelras to get in, keep the air flowing and move through the ship.

The Sith were holding the corridors tight, even with the flood of drones - the Juggernauts still preferred to get close, using the tight corridors of the ship to their advantage as they sprung on the sith. The large general hugged the interior of an opening doorway, her forces surging through the gap.

"Ver'kad, this is General Keldothera - I'm aboard the Battlecruiser, we'll be setting our charges in five." Kelda reported, holding her gauntlet up as she sent the communication back to the fleet.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Predator and Prey/Fleet Battle
Post: Two
Tags: Galak

The Primarch turned where he stood, looking to the approaching Emissary. Even though it was hard to tell, the old Shaman was smiling as well as his face could manage.

“Welcome to my pedestal a top this world, Galak.” He spoke with a warm confidence.

With an outward faced palm, he gestured to the length of the M'gaelak crown, shifting back a step away from the edge to stand next to Galak. Today was a day to be proud, to be filled with ego and pride as they always should. Unity had granted them a major victory. It was not so long ago that he was unsure of the outcome of the impending battles, but the Bryn'adûl had survived, flourished.

“We’ve won, Emissary. We held true to our oaths, held true to ourselves and now we have followed in the echo of the Titan and conquered fourteen systems. We’ve taken more in a month than we have done so before in years.” His words carried a hiss, bloodlust and gratitude intertwined.

“Truthfully, I did not think it could ever go this well. But, I was proven wrong.” An ultimately absent-minded admission but not one of guilt.

They had won the day. Though his telepathy spoke of something unnerving lingering in the back of Galak's mind.

 

[Galak]

Post: Two
Objective: Speak and be Heard
Tag: Primarch Drek'ma

"Pedestal indeed, Primarch. A beautiful view you have, up here. As beautiful as an enemy world can be, conquered and destroyed." He remarked, rubbing his hands together as the cold gale rushed past.

It wasn't beautiful in the same sort of way a sunflower or the open deserts of Draemidus were, with their firelight trees and red grass. But it was beautiful in the way a child was, something of your making. Your effort, put together to create something magnificent. They had all, fought so hard to be were they stood.

“You’re right. Things are going well.” Galak said with a nod, walking up alongside Drek'ma.

He shared his enthusiasm, but even though Galak wasn't quite the conversationalist he knew there was subtext to this entire conversation. Drek'ma was 'playing the field' and waiting to hear why he was here. Galak didn't blame him for that, but part of him wished the pretense could've lasted longer.

“But, there is one thing that still worries me Primarch. Something that I don’t know.” An admission as well, but one with far more weight.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Predator and Prey/Fleet Battle
Post: Three
Tags: Galak |

He listened, and it seemed his instincts were right. Something was troubling Galak, but there were no Seers here so now he came to the next best thing. Or perhaps recent events had taught the Emissary to trust him, he did not know. It didn't matter. But he wouldn't outright address the concern, he knew how Baedurin worked.

“Done well indeed, Emissary. As much due to your achievements as anyone else. You alongside the Chieftain and the others of our leadership have united us, and carried us to victory.” He spoke, placated and calm.

He didn't even acknowledge what Galak had said. But that was the point, the less he said - it would bring them to the point, to what Galak wanted to say faster. Time was the only currency that mattered and it was best not wasted.

“You have done well, you should be proud.” Drek'ma explained, tilting his head toward the Emissary.

That would do it.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: One
Using: Axe
Obj: P&P
Tag: Ostak Cl'mana

The Axe clashed against the violent crimson blade, scattering ember shards across the grassland floor as the Sith retreat into a pirouette, darting backward several feet. Heavy trudged footsteps echoed as the armoured Dowutin attacked again, his saber crashing against the offline exterior of the Axe's shaft, crackling against it once again. Tathra switched his left hand into a reverse grip, allowing him to use it to anchor his blow as he maneuvered the Axe's length around the curvature of the lightsaber.

Left switching back into a normal grip as the open paw of his right slammed the blunt of the pommel end into the saber, pushing it left as the Axe aligned down the Titan's dominant wrist - allowing him to immediately slash downward, striking the lightsaber hard and away; opening the Dowutin sith up.

Vulnerable.

Tathra grasped beneath the handguard with his right, thrusting forward and into the chest of the Sith. The upper end of the Axe's crimson blade dug greedily into his chest, the tip coming out of the other end as Tathra ripped upward as he sidestepped, darting past. Releasing the Axe into his dominant fist as the the blade tore from chest to throat, the Dowutin collapsing as Tathra turned to the next. He grabbed the Sith from behind, pulling her by the cloak into the Axe - its crimson surface tearing her torso into halves.

 

[Osam]

Objective: Fleet Battle
Post 2

It was the nature of the dead to fall. Bodies that had their vital force ripped away from them always crumpled to the ground, and even the trees of a forest would collapse to the earth below when they'd been severed from their roots. Even in the seeming absence of gravity often provided by space, Osam had determined that most corpses inevitably latched onto either the floor or the ceiling, locked into a state of semi-permanent falling in the process. The Major wouldn't have considered something so philosophical in the midst of battle were it not for the simple fact that the vessel he was currently boarding had begun to careen and fall.

The Debaucher's initial assault had caused immense damage to the smaller frigate upon which it had latched, draining it of so much of its energy in the process, and the boarding crew which it had unleashed through its myriad of tendrils had inflicted a heavy cost in personnel. Osam himself had already observed as nearly three-dozen members of the starship had been cut through by a mixture of blades and bludgeons and bullets. Nevertheless, the point of their assault had been to render the vessel inert and useless - killing it had never been part of the plan... especially not while they were onboard.

Even as the ship continued to careen to its side, dragging along the attached Debaucher with it, he felt certain that they'd been caught within the gravity well of the planet. His mind went back to Nar Kreeta, and the sudden plummet of a tremendous heavenly body as it crashed to the ground with titanic force, obliterating friend and foe alike with its colossal destruction. For his sake and the sake of all those on the ground, he needed to do the impossible - he needed to keep an enemy vessel from death's grasp.

 

[Sethrak]

Post Two
Enemy: 30ish Sith in the ruined city
Tags: N/A

They had attacked before he could respond. It had been a sudden assault, chaos had been unleashed. The first sign of what was to come was when a blast sent Sethrak flying back. It might not have been the first thing to happen, but it was the first stage of the chaos that the Warlock had seen. At the same time of the explosion, blasterfire layered the ground around him, several blasts hitting him in the chest, legs, and arm. He had survived, but he was injured already.

As for his squad, the onslaught had immediately killed six drones. The remaining fourteen Drael had scrambled for cover and now were returning fire against the superior enemy numbers. The Bryn were stronger, able to take several shots before death, and they had better weapons that shot molten metal or explosive blasts at the enemy. That being said, the enemy had the high ground and the numbers. They were in a damaged building, several stories high. Each floor had troops in it, and each troop was unloading a barrage of blasterfire at the Drael below.

Sethrak knew exactly what to do but he was hurt, and the maneuver required speed. He would flank the Sith, entering their building from behind and killing them before any more Drael were harmed.

Clenching his jaw, he stood up and sprinted toward the Sith entrenchment. Each step sent a fresh wave of stinging pain through his legs but he didn't care. Enough Drael had died in what should have been a slaughter. The battle was over, it wasn't fair that they would die when they should be celebrating a victory. Rage filled the Warlock as he sprinted from cover to cover, hoping the Sith scum wouldn't see him.

Hope wasn't enough. He was about twenty yards away from the building when the blaster fire shifted from the Bryn to himself. He deflected the shots with his spear, directing some toward the building inaccurately. If he couldn't flank them, he'd kill them from here. His blood boiled hotter than the spear, or even the blasts it deflected as rage became power.

He had only been this angry once or twice in his life. Only one of those times had he done what he was about to do. Staring at the building the Warlock focused on the rage. His failures, his guilt, and the pain from his wounds fueled him. In one movement he dropped the spear and sent a massive ball of flame at the building.

It connected, the height of the ball covering two floors' windows. The flames entered the building, the Sith inside incinerated by the intense heat. Inside, the building was alight, the walls and carpets would be engulfed in flames. There were only a few Sith left now.

Sethrak moved in for the kill.​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Two
Using: Axe
Obj: P&P
Tag: Ostak Cl'mana |

With a harsh yank of the cloak, the two halves fell separate in a gush of blood on either side of the Titan. A scream from behind, a wounded Feeorin Sith struck down with its purple saber at him - Tathra sidestepped the blow, the Axe held close to his side in his dominant fist. With a simple outward slash that brought the Axe to his shoulder, he cut through the Feeorin - its blue skull exploding open as the legs went first, body tumbling to the ground.

No time to celebrate. Sith gunship overhead. The gunship opened fire, priming its missiles as he ran to the aid of the nearest Ashaka, healing a fallen Risen.

"Down!"

The Titan activated his Shield, standing in the way of the attack as the missiles darted around the battlefield, two striking his shield. The explosions took him from his feet, crashing into the muddy grass on his side. As he turned to rise, a beam blast from a Ra'mak took the Gunship out of the sky - spiralling down toward them. As Tathra rose to his feet, a Juggernaut struggled to rip herself from the mud.

Acting on instinct, he deactivated his shield and ran to her; throwing her from the mud as the Gunship came crashing down on them. Tathra turned around, swinging with the Axe; a wave of powerful red energy exploding from its blade in an arc that severed the crashing gunship, its halves crashing into the mud with lessened momentum.

 

[Osam]

Post 3
Fleet Battle

It was common knowledge that a ship's brain could be found within the confines of its bridge. Every mechanical piece of neurological mimicry eventually connected to that sector of control. Of course, given such an important position, it was also common knowledge that a starship's bridge was undeniably its most secure area. Whether upon a mere medicinal corvette, or upon one of the mighty Conquesters, this truth was ultimately the same - the frigate would prove to be no different.

The band of Risen and Sraelvun made their way steadily throughout the vessel, Osam listening as reports sounded from different areas of the ship as squads from other tendrils of the Debaucher made swift work of their own sectors. The original boarding plan had involved securing these disparate localities of the frigate before converging together to push on the bridge, but this was steadily becoming an impossibility. By the time they'd all managed to clear their sectors, the ship would've careened to such a point as to be unsalvageable.

Already the tilt beneath his feet was becoming more and more noticeable. Osam shrieked a command to his kindred, having them grasp onto the side of the ship with one of their arms as they moved in the event that the tumble became more severe. With their maneuverability sustained, the group began to make their way towards the bridge, striking down the meager security forces still available as they neared the hostile stronghold.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: II
OBJECTIVE: B (Predator and Prey), deliver combat reports to Tathra
LOCATION: M'gaelak Siege Tower, Gunboat Deployment Bay 02
EQUIPMENT: Ceremonial Shaman robes, Barad Assault Carbine (144 rounds)
TAGS: Tathra Khaeus

Ostak walked through the entryway to the gunboat bay, revealing several Gunboats loading up with reinforcements.
​

Several minutes earlier, the Overseer had asked the staff in the command room about the whereabouts of the Chieftain. Their last reports had him about two kilometers to the northwest of the advancing Tower, so Ostak had decided to grab a carbine from the Tower's armory and get a quick ride there. Presently he dashed forwards to one of the Gunboats, calling out to the Brutes stepping onboard.

"Let me on, I have a message to deliver directly to the Chieftain!" cried Ostak, rushing towards the loading ramp.

The Brutes felt the honest intent of the Beast Master through his tone and believed him, delaying the loading so he could step onboard. Lying about such an affair with such an important figure was a major heresy, and the Brutes knew better than to doubt their superior. After being fully loaded with about twenty Brutes of various ranks and Ostak, the Gunboat propelled itself forwards and ejected itself from the Tower. Under Ostak's direction, the cramped troop transport moved into a cruising altitude at about the height of the middle of the Tower's torso, rapidly closing the distance between him and the Chieftain.

"We're at the coordinates you set, now what?" asked the Gunboat's pliot.

"Lower the gate." ordered Ostak. "Trust me, I'll make the landing."

With a worried sigh, the pilot lowered the Gunboat's gate, revealing a barren plains about fifty meters beneath them.

"Good luck, and may your tenants guide you to further glory." stated Ostak before casually stepping off the ramp and into open air.

The initial sensation of plummeting filled the Shaman-Overseer with adrenaline, but with trained efficiency, he quickly mastered his sensations and reached below him with his spiritual energy. Thirty meters from the ground, Ostak's descent slowed drastically, his body gently gliding downwards as a result of his own will and energies. After about fifty seconds, Ostak finally touched down on the ground, grass instantly crushed underneath his feet.

With his rifle in his hands and the data stone with his combat report in a pocket of his robes, Ostak began his trek to his own superior.

​

 

[Sethrak]

Post 3
Objective: Become a Merciful Firefighter
Tags: N/A

The building now resembled hell. From the outside, any entrances glowed a dark orange. Smoke and fumes poured out like blood from an organ. Inside, Sethrak saw charred bodies with molten flesh hanging off of deformed limbs. Above him he heard shouts of pain and panic. Above the chaos, there was one voice that overpowered the rest. While he didn't know what it said, he recognized it to be orders of some kind.

While not resistant to heat like his Baedurin brothers, Sethrak did have a higher tolerance for it than humans. That's how he could be shot and not killed in some cases. Regardless, he hated the heat. It slowed him down, made him weaker, and it was uncomfortable. Therefore he'd make this quick.

He advanced toward the stairs, thrusting his sword through a half-dead Sith. Continuing up the steps he saw a Sith with a burnt arm sitting at the top. He moved for the kill but was too late. The man shouted out, making no effort to fight. A selfless sacrifice but a foolish one. His allies stood no chance against Sethrak, even if they knew he was there.

It was an inconvenience though, as a swarm of Sith troops began to fire at the Drael Warlock. In response he threw the Culler Knife, hitting a female between her eyes. He dodged a few shots but it was pointless. He was too slow with his wounds, and suffered the consequences as two blasts hit him square in the chest. Grunting he ran toward the sith, another shot hitting his left arm. He couldn't take any more of this. Desperately he sliced at the men, killing one and hitting another. He brought the sword back and finished the wounded Sith before stabbing it through another.

There were now two Sith immediately next to him, but several more advanced behind the duo.

Sethrak ran one through with his sword, but didn't pull it out as he grabbed the second Sith with his left hand by the throat. With the two Sith under his control, he limped toward the next wave, absorbing their shots with the two bodies. He'd reach them in seconds. They were no longer a threat, however Sethrak heard the booming voice that gave them orders. It was their leader. He could be a threat if he was a Force-user as Sethrak was outnumbered and quickly growing tired due to his reckless assault.

Sure enough he heard it; The ignition of a laser-sword.

 

[Osam]

Post 4
Fleet Battle

The defenses were understandably more severe than had originally been hoped. Osam had acknowledged the relatively minor size of the frigate when compared to a hulking Conquester or even one of the many massive juggernauts that typically deployed alongside the Jedi and Sith forces, and he'd immediately assumed that the security force onboard would be utterly minimal. Instead, he found that the Sith aboard the frigate had grown desperate with the gradual careen into oblivion, and while most of those onboard were probably more useful as technicians and medics, they too now opted to repel the boarders.

Osam observed as another band of lightly-armored and armed crewmen came to oppose them, this group choosing to chase down the boarders as opposed to waiting within the confines of their bridge. They were mown down in due course, but even the smaller arms fire was enough to bring down one of his kindred in the process. The Verikast armor they wore was excellent at repelling blaster bolts, but it was not an all-encompassing shell - a lucky shot had pierced through the face of one of his compatriots, searing through the eye-socket and flash-boiling the chemicals which had once comprised consciousness.

Yet, even with all of these technical defenders, the squadron of Risen and Sraelvun were making good progress. Soon, far sooner than he'd anticipated, they had run out of immediate foes in their path and reached the bulkhead which served as the vessel's bridge. Knocking it to the ground would be a difficult ordeal, and one that would've been aided by the mighty Baedurin, but the Srael were not without their capacity for brutish force. Parking his squadron several meters from the doorway, he allowed his Grenadier to rig the bulkhead with a substantial amount of ordinance, intending to punch either directly through the bulkhead, or else to take the floor out from under all of them.

As the Grenadier found their trigger, the Major hoped for the former outcome.

 

[Galak]

Post: Three
Objective: Speak and be Heard
Tag: Primarch Drek'ma |

“I am. I am proud of all of us…” It was true, he was proud of them. But that wasn't why he was here, and he didn't understand why the Primarch was sidelining his concerns for prattle.

Perhaps it was a tactic? The Baedurin didn't care, he was a Juggernaut. He had lead thousands and fought in place of the Titan - he did not have time for these games the Primarch insisted on playing. Or so, at the very least that was what he saw in it.

“But one thing still lingers on, Primarch. There is still something I need to know. On that day on Kreeta, when the second wave burned in the atmosphere and the charred remains came crashing down - we heard nothing from him for so long…”

Galak knew that he knew, but he wasn't sure if he'd ever learn the truth of it. Perhaps, best not? He couldn't know until he asked. But he was trying to, the best way he knew how.