Faction The Bryn'adûl | Forming Of The Covenant

[Tathra Khaeus]

FORMING OF THE COVENANT​

For the first time in nearly fifteen years, the Ish'makra and its delegation would be broadcasted throughout the entire Bryn'adûl Empire. Those of the authority to speak; Warlords, Seers, leaders of the Corps, Council Members and delegates were all in the flesh on this momentous occasion. The day light mingled with the ionic storm in the sky, casting a brilliant red hue of light throughout the entire top-side exterior of the open building. The Chieftain of the Bryn'adûl, Tathra was waiting on a raised platform built into the centre north facing wall of the chamber, the doorway made out of a set of pillars. He was leaning against the inside of the central pillar, waiting as those called to attendance gathered. Some drawn from all the way across the edge of their territory and battlefields. He would not have called them all here had it not been so important. But no doubt many now were eager to know why they were here. The time was drawing near, one would expect nerves and anxiety but this time there were none. Strangely, with smaller announcements there indeed had been. But not today, today Tathra was filled with glorious purpose. Proud, to finally expand their borders. Even two years ago this would have been unthinkable for even himself, but they had become so different than how he had originally imagined. His initial vision for the Draelvasier almost entirely gone, save for the core mission and purpose of their existence.

That, would never change. Not before he drew his last breath, then whoever took his place would lead them however they so wished - but until then? The goal remained the same. Wipe weakness from the face of the Galaxy and all who spread it. It was the how that changed, it had to. Not every species in the Galaxy was guilty of the sins corroborated by the Galactically dominant humans. It had all changed at Nar Kreeta. When Gianna Aegis had opened his mind, it showed him so many things. The force had opened itself up to him, bare and naked in its true cosmic power. But instead of a flourish of fury, he saw the consequence of his actions through the eyes and souls of those he deemed necessary to eradicate. It broke his heart, caused tears to fall for those he had swore to hate unrelentingly. He could no longer do that, not absolutely for all. It was simply impossible. The numbers haunted him every night. In truth, he did this so he could stop the guilt. So he could no longer hear the abhorrent howls of a grieving mother cradling a child torn in halves,

It was done so that he could sleep.

A day would come when his body was too weak to carry the Axe, to strap on the armour. He hoped to die before that day came. But all the same, a day would come where this species would surpass him. And he wanted them to be better than he was, wiser. More compassionate. He looked out from the edge of the pillar as the sounds of dialogue between those gathered reached him, aureate eyes darting along the edges of the gathered crowds bustling through the newly constructed seating arrangements above the central chamber. The time for deliberation was over, it was time to do what he had been thinking about for months. The doors to his right receded into the structure as the Half-Jaw; the Honour Guard Captain, walked through. He looked nervous, hands busy at his sides.

"Sire, it's all ready." Half-Jaw stated, mattered of fact. He left his own doubts out of it.

"Thank you, Captain."

Calm, certain. Tathra stood upright, turning to face the glazing red light peering out through the open walls of the coliseum-like structure built around the Chamber. The warm glow was comforting, but gave way to an intense heat as the sun rose to hang directly above the Citadel of the Ish'makra. The intensity mirrored the importance of the next few words to come from his mouth.

"The rest, is left to me." He whispered under his breath, walking out onto the platform and making his way toward the podium.

Tathra saw many of those he recognised not far below, up above him thousands of spectators cheering as he appeared. Fists raised into the air, Baedurin roaring fierce battle cries as spit shot out from their massive mouth, fists slamming into their chests as a rhythmic honour bound chant reverberated through the Citadel. The throat-singing of the Aeravalin playing off the brassy-tone of the Baedurin as the Sraelvun screamed and danced themselves among their Commanders. Spirits were high, it had only been days before they had conquered the Silver Jedi Concord once again, ripping through their defences and wiping out the populace of over a dozen systems in a flash of sheer immense power they could not contend with. They had beaten them back, battering them on the ground and in the sky until there was nothing left. The Sarkans were all but extinct now, buried in the city the Jedi promised would protect them.

Victory after victory, they cut a swath across the Galaxy with fire and blood at their feet.

Now was the time for something different entirely. The Titan's gaze shifted between the Seers, judges and delegates and then to those called in accordance. The First Risen; Osam. The First Warlock; Hrajlmak, all of his Warlords and Emissaries. A raised bare hand waved to the immense crowd, acknowledging them as the Mind Stones built into the semi circular walls began to deposit a live feed across their entire empire. Today, he would be speaking to millions of Draelvasier. It was unimaginable fear that they had accomplished, over ten percent of the Galaxy belonged to one species. Not for long.

"Quiet."

There was no need to shout, his voice carried a thousand times over by the Adjudicators at his side, reverberating through the Mind Stones to make his voice the sole dominant word. The crowd settled, the throat-singing the last to die out as Tathra waited patiently for absolute silence. They were all waiting, wanting to know what was so important to divert them from their war fronts. They were about to find out.

"As your Chieftain, it has been my duty for over twenty years to be the guiding hand of this species. Proudly leading you through every victory and defeat. Every evolution, progression. Now, comes for the greatest since our conception."

Pride swelled in his heart as he spoke, his nation of incredible warriors truly realised. No military might could match them, no tactical mind could match his or his Warlords. But they could not become complacent. Even now as they continued on to conquer the Galaxies systems, even as Jedi and Sith fell by their hands they could never believe themselves complete or perfect. They had to march forward, always. Even when they weren't sure of the path, forward was the only way to stay strong. Tathra placed his right hand on the centre of the podium, palm resting on a Mind Stone at its centre. Beside him, appeared four large red glyphs, - the names of four species in Draelvasier. The glyphs burnt red, pulsing with energy as they reconfigured into four different creatures, two on either side.

From left to right;

The Akhenatons, tall insectoid creatures with a ash grey carapace exterior; glowing yellow eyes. They had a smaller frame than any of other races, but their exoskeleton was impressive. The Ungulloi, small and goblin-like creatures with heavily armoured arms and legs, anthropoid like in stature and physique. The Vaydralen, tall and proud cast in cobalt sheened armour. Those with a keen eye would already recognise the Verikast armour in the shades of dull blue. Lastly, the Kraemonen; a seemingly inhuman mass of orange and bronze tendrils vaguely imitating a hulking humanoid form. Its form being made up of hundreds of writhing smaller interconnected creatures apparent to those that studied it for more than a moment. The four holograms were large enough for all to see, becoming the main fixture of distant broadcasts as Tathra grasped at the edges of the podium nervously. It was now or never, no doubt millions if not billions were wondering why he was showing them these different species.

"When you look at these species, you might see nothing more than other beings next in line to be wiped from the face of the Galaxy. But you would be wrong. As I was. You look at these small, impish creatures and you might disregard them. But when I walked on the planet of the Ungulloi, seeing them struggling to persevere against the harsh world they were born into. Like us. Just like us. They had no choice in how they looked or how tall they were. But what they could choose was whether to die out or fight to survive. They choose the latter. "

The words were passionate, strong. Even as he spoke the massive crowds began to bustle with whisper and discussion. The projected hologram of the Ungulloi bled into recorded eye footage of the creatures working together, building their constructions and automatons, black steam rising from their mechanisms.

"In secret, I and a select few have watched and interacted with these isolated races. And it is today that I announce to all of you, that they will be joining us in our grand conquest! They are to be your brothers and sisters! Adopt them into our culture, as I have done for you! Today, we become not just an Empire but a Covenant. A luminous sun, for which under the tender of; all strong and intelligent life may blossom!"

His voice, booming across the Bryn'adûl Empire.

Spoiler

Sethrak | Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma | Ursa Antar | Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Kelmor | Gordrak | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu | Amunra Khaeus | Sylok'Vanari | Sarask Hiskt | Udomek Seker |

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

FORMING OF THE COVENANT
Tag: Sethrak | Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok

Nothing short of pandemonium could explain the feeling of trepidation that swelled in him as the Chieftain spoke, this was... unheard of him. His face craned diagonally, straining as he listened from his council seat to hear exactly what Tathra said. He found himself leaning against his Stave, legs numb beneath him as he was forced to sit. He was uncertain of how he felt about it, he had to trust in the Titan's instincts - did he not? Perhaps there was hope for other species throughout the Galaxy. But then, what could be said for the near trillions they had slaughtered to find them? Had any of them been worthy of saving. No, he could not assume as such, it would be too much to bear on his mind.

If he were to take the Titan's word as law, and he almost always did; then the possibilities of what this revelation implied were disheartening. Where the Ish'makra to become a multi-species assembly of different cultures? Where these new species to integrate, perhaps. It would be difficult to get the Baedurin and the elitist Aeravalin to work alongside other species when they had previously unequivocally considered all species inferior to Draelvasier. It had been hard enough to get them to coalesce among themselves.

He knew his place, Tathra was his friend. But if he did not ask the pressing questions, then someone else would. And no doubt there were others with far more negative bias than he possessed. Drek'ma finally stood, Stave in hand as he placed his hand on the Mind Stone bound to the pedestal in front of him.

"If these species are to stand amongst us as equals, what ramifications will that have? Are the Draelvasier to share the worlds they have fought for? Are the Ish'makra to become a house of many voices and an ununified mind?"

 

[Galak]

FORMING OF THE COVENANT
Tag: Primarch Drek'ma | Tathra Khaeus | Hrajlmak'Natok | Osam | Sethrak

A light filled his chest at the words he was hearing. Years ago, he had stood for the Risen-Sraelvun and would do so again for the species he had met. The Vaydralen, found just beyond the edges of Warlord Sethrak's territory were a proud warrior race. Tathra fought their leaders, and had already began to bring them into the fold. He imagined at least, it was what those who had helped him get to where he was, would want. In the end this battle they fought was about returning purpose and strength to the Galaxy. The core of their mantra was unity through all things. This simply brought greater unity.

His ears perked up when the Primarch began to speak, he listened as the old Shaman spoke. No doubt he had his own ideas of how things should be done, given his vast seniority. The baedurin had no words of his own to add to the discussion, but the Titan had his full support.

Something of fighting alongside the proud Vaydralen against the weak filth of the Galaxy filled him with a strange hope. There was plenty of room in their territory for more species. He and his kin, Baedurin respected warriors. It did not matter what they looked like, talked like. What was important was the contents of their character. And he knew, these races whilst young had strong hearts.

He had never seen the Akhenatons before, they reminded him of the Kubaz; strangely enough. He looked forward to meeting them. It was a strange sensation, feeling excited.

It had been a long time since he felt that for anything but the killing.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Tags: Galak / Primarch Drek'ma / Tathra Khaeus

A hot sun beamed through thick red clouds, blanketing Hrajlmak in harsh red light. Prior to the gathering of the council, and seemingly the Empire at large, Hrajlmak had elected not to don any armour. An obvious decision he thought. But now he paid the price. He shifted uneasily in his seat, his Aeravalin nervous system losing the argument to heat. His ceremonial Shaman cloak only making matters worse. He felt like a wrapped up carcass on a fireplace. His first meeting with the Ish'makra in years, and he already wanted to leave.

The enthusiasm of the common Draelvasier died down, giving way to the Chieftain's voice. Species unfamiliar to him were displayed for all eyes to see. He knew he wasn't the only one there thinking these were the next targets. All of his eyes darted up and down the four different beings, sizing them up, strategically assessing them for their theoretical worth on the battlefield. He couldn't figure out for the life of him how they were going to fight the worms, but the little armored midgets, they looked like fun and games. But no amount of concentration on the dismemberment mechanics of these species could have distracted him from Tathra's words.

"And it is today that I announce to all of you that they will be joining us in our grand conquest". Hrajlmak's eyes peeled open as wide as they would go. He wasn't tuned in to any mind stones, but the change in emotion was swift and monumental. His eyes darted to the Chieftain, then to the Primarch. Hrajlmak had felt his mind the most, and there was nothing invisible about it. The towering Shaman looked ill. Hrajlmak looked back at the podium, his attention grabbed in full.

The Draelvasier around him burst into heated debate. Some called for their destruction, a select few voices shouted acceptance. They all danced around the real focal point, the Chieftain. None dared lambast him, only question. The Primarch's voice broke through the political turmoil. His question a valid one indeed. The ramifications would doubtless be significant. The Draelvasier were about as xenophobic as they came. Hrajlmak pondered how an empire bred on unity and the image of a mono-species Galactic authority would take to the reform. It was massive, and sure to cause rifts. But now that these species had a reason for being there, Hrajlmak's eyes took on a new duty.

Hrajlmak was as curious as he was rabid. His former doubts for his allegiance and his people were often bred of questions. Many years ago he cradled the skull of a droid in his hand. There is no time to study your enemy on the battlefield, only plan how next to destroy them. And so when those rare moments do appear, Hrajlmak, the Aeravalin, indulged to the fullest. It was onboard a battle-station powered by a god of heretical technology, "artificial intelligence" that he had the precious moment with a droid he had only moments before scrapped. As he peered into the lifeless optic component of a metallic monstrosity, he found himself questioning what exactly it was that made it a monstrosity. Its craftsmanship was impeccable, and the mechanisms that permitted it to fulfill its purpose were exceedingly complex. Hrajlmak held the intellect that had manifested this metal man to a nigh-divine standard. He felt diminished, intellectually humiliated. Yet these were feelings that had to be swept under the rug. Quelled with immediacy lest he risk the wrath of his peers. Of course he could never doubt the intellectual prowess of his own kind. The Draelvasier made warships of a petri dish, and returned paraplegics to their prime like it were nothing. He was proud of his own science, but oh was he curious of other's. Now, he looked on these species with renewed curiosity. Each of them were below them technologically, but that meant nothing. In war, you can only destroy your enemy. Now, Hrajlmak became obsessed with the idea of studying them. He would pick apart those midgets not for glory, but for science. But the one's who really appealed were the worms and the sleek, cobalt-clad warriors. He was excited, his mind ran at a million miles per hour. And for this reason, he accepted this move with all his heart.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

FORMING OF THE COVENANT​

As soon as the words left him, he thought he was done. Finished. They would drive a hundred blades into him, claw his eyes out for betraying them. The anxiety spiked as the entire species seemed to erupt into heated debate in one cohesive scream of confusion and frustration. Even the harsh rays of the sun felt hostile, thousands of dull yellow eyes looking up at him. They pleaded to him with their eyes, some with anger and others begging for the confusion and disharmony to dissipate. He understood the frustration, and more than that he was glad someone reasonable choose to voice it.

The Primarch was asking the right questions, those too stubborn to look past what some might consider progressive views. But they were the right ones, he had lead them until now and they would have to trust him now. More than ever. No doubt he expected civil discourse, but any who would stray too far had to know that their would be consequences. But some part of him knew that their would be those who believed this was something they could opt into or out of. It made him slightly regret giving the Warlords the autonomy they now enjoyed. If all went poorly, he was ready to rip those privileges away.

"We will not become unified. This is a meritocracy, those worthy of sitting upon the Ish'makra shall. And we shall operate as one, under one coven. One Covenant. The new races will co-occupy worlds they help take, protect and build. They will have what they earn, just as we have. They are to be our equals, brethren."

He hoped that would quell their worries. But perhaps not, the minds of any mammal was not predictable. But this course was already set, there was nothing his descendants could do to change that. Voices rose from the crowd, calling for votes, calling his decision unfair. He needed to set the record straight, before discord ensued.

"The Vaydralen, the Ungulloi, the Akhenaton and the Kraemonen will all be joining us. Allow me to be clear, brothers and sisters. This is not a vote, not a decision. This is what is happening. Those who do not comply, will be dealt with as heretics. Our Empire grows, evolves. And so do we!"


Tags: Sethrak | Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok | Primarch Drek'ma | Galak |

 

[Sethrak]

Post: 1
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

Sethrak listened along with many other influential figures within The Bryn'adul. This news was major, especially coming from Tathra Khaeus who had not long ago crushed several small heretic uprisings for questioning his more traditional stances. Those heretics believed The Bryn should integrate more than just the Drael into their ranks. Yet here he stood, proposing just that: A covenant between several races beyond The Draelvaiser.

The Warlord had secretly (and not so secretly) supported this move for a while but now it had come to fruition he didn't know how to react. In the end he decided that he would do nothing. The new allies would be welcomed on Lothal and in truth he could use the manpower. It'd free up his elite Lothal Garrison to help on the frontlines while the new allies trained and built in reserve. It'd' also allow him to study them, and learn how they fight and work with the Drael.

Indeed, this was a major step forward for The Bryn'adul. First it was the Warlords, now the covenant. Even if the heretic movement was gone, they had undoubtedly made an impact. Their vision for The Bryn'adul was becoming a reality and Sethrak liked it.

 

[Osam]

Osam was grateful for being given the opportunity to observe as a tremendous event in the history of the Bryn'adul and their mighty Crusade unfolded before his very eyes, but that gratitude gradually disintegrated under the weight of the great change. The First of the Risen-Sraelvun was currently far from the proceedings of the Ish'makra proper, but being at all capable of listening to them was something worthy of praise, wasn't it? The reason for their decision gradually became apparent as the nature of the meeting was uncovered.

No longer would the Draelvasier walk about in their conflict alone, and yet, was this not a weakening of the principles that they had sworn themselves to in the past? What was it about these newcomers that made them worthy enough to stand alongside his kindred? They had fought and struggled and warred with the remainder of the galaxy in order to establish their foothold, and now would they need to share it with freeloaders and parasites?

The answer was 'no' according to the great Titan, but his following statements, the way that he demanded respect and attention and order from those around him... it was unnerving. When would the mighty father turn his gaze on all those who didn't meet his perfect image, and decide to strike them from existence? He had allowed the Risen to move beyond their position among the Sraelvun, but Osam was uncertain that they would remain living once all of the battles had been fought, and humanity had died.

Perhaps it was best that they fought on for eternity, lest their sire choose to extinguish them once they'd fallen short of usefulness, only to be replaced by aliens from some unseen world and unseen place.