Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Slaughter Before the Storm | Sleheyron

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post Eight
Objective B

The Titan hesitated, not seeing a need to puncture one of the containers. The militiamen who’d been hiding behind the other container came running, alongside four more a few seconds further away. Seconds was all he would need. Tathra turned to his left as the first soldier came close, crushing the neck and rib-cage of the one grasped in his right hand as he blocked with his left.

Tathra caught the vibroblade of the approaching soldier mid-swing with his gauntlet, cocking his wrist low and slashing upward, cutting the upper-torso in half as the body flew backward. The next, he was able to stop before the blade of the spear cut into his armpit; grasping the blade between his fingers and pushing it aside, immediately crossing over with his left and cutting the spear in half before delivering a kick to the man’s chest.

From behind, Tathra threw back his elbow, knocking another to the ground before dropping to one knee as he thrust the spearhead into the soldiers face. Ahead, the last two stood side by side. A mixture of anger and fear in their faces as they stood, one with a bat and the other holding a gun. They all knew what would happen if he fired, Tathra froze where he stood, waiting.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

Objective A
Subtask: Assassinate Vasque The Hutt
Post: 7
Equipment: In Signature + Wendigo Spiker
Tags: Galak


Before Vasque or his guards could even blink, a Spiker bolt was through the Hutt’s chest.

While Krarolk’s commander was normally the sharpshooter, Krarolk himself had taken the initiative this time. With the target gravely wounded, the three Zealots turned their attention to the guards. They seemed slightly tougher than the other ones, with heavier armor and machine guns instead of rifles. Still, they had their weak points.

Throwing his spiritual energy into his glaive, Krarolk sliced through a soldier’s armor as if it were butter and skewered her through the heart. A second soldier approached, knife raised, only for two Spiker bolts to rip through his helmet and skull respectively. The third soldier fired a few bullets, only for them to bounce off the armor of the Zealots and leave him vulnerable to be knocked down to the ground by the heavy Zealot, who treated the soldier to a point-blank Shredder shot. Upon seeing the carnage before her, the fourth soldier attempted to commit suicide, but her feet was swept from under her before she could fire her gun on herself. An instant later, a glaive was through her chest.

The same glaive, Krarolk’s own, returned to its owner's hands as the three Zealots approached the fallen Hutt. He bled heavily, no longer able to move or speak, even more blood leaving his body as he let out weak breaths. The Hutt could not even raise a stubby arm in resistance as Krarolk drew his glaive.

In a single slash, Vasque the Hutt was no more.

Krarolk sheathed his still-bloody glaive and used his free hands to grab the Hutt’s grotesque head, which would be brought out as a trophy. A large nearby elevator provided an obvious exit route from the dark room, which the three Zealots gladly took.

They travelled up to the palace’s top floor without any issue even with their bulk, the elevator meant to support the weight of a fully grown Hutt and his entourage. They exited without opposition, and approached an open-air balcony. It overlooked the main fight below, where the Byrn army ruthlessly pushed back the garrison defenders. Even without the moral deprivation of losing their leader, Krarolk suspected that the garrison would soon collapse due to sheer force of the offensive.

Without further hesitation, Krarolk raised the head of Vasque the Hutt in his hands and pulled them back. Then, he tossed the head off the balcony as expertly as he would one of his axes, its trajectory set to land directly in the middle of the defending garrison.

Surely, once the head of their leader landed beside them, the defenders of the Vosadii Palace would lose all hope in obtaining victory.

The three Zealot Elites returned to the elevator from which they had arrived, descending down to the lower floors to help their kin finish off the castle’s defenders and burn the wretched planet to the ground. Still, the Zealot trio had to conserve some of their energy.

After all, the three Elites would soon be due to carry the banner of the Great Crusade to Yurb, a stepping stone from which the Byrn'adul could skewer the heart of the Silver Jedi.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Nine
Objective: B

Tathra stepped closer once again, raising he sword slightly. A flash of cutting down them both went through his mind, a hunger in his eyes put fear in the two.

“Drop it! Drop it you bastard!” The gunner staggered a few steps ahead of his companion, sweat dripping from his bald head. Tathra gently set down the sword, standing tall. His eyes locked with the fleshling ahead of him. He moved as little as he could, taking a half step forward as he straightened himself.

“If you discharge that weapon. You will die.” Tathra goaded. - “So will you!” The man replied.

He was certain it would kill them all, and not just those inside of the factory but plenty outside of it. Tathra had to think carefully; “I know you realise you are dead regardless of your decision.” He replied, taking one step closer.

“Oh yeah?” The man replied, his hand shaking slightly as he thought about his own mortality. The man beside him was looking back and forth between Tathra and his companion. Whether he wanted him to shoot or not, Tathra couldn’t tell.

“Yes.” It was a simple response, he had no reason to lie. His fate was sealed and Tathra was no liar. “Your life has been small, meaningless. But this is your chance to mean something.” He understood what was going through this little man’s mind. He had the same thought when he had the chance to break his chains as a slave. But no matter what, this little fleshling will die.

“But you are wrong. You fumble in ignorance, this defiance is...churlish, futile.” Tathra shrugged, an almost disappointed tone taken as he took another step forward. The man looked confused, angry. He didn’t want to die, and the longer he thought about it the harder it’d get to pull the trigger.

“Just shoot him betz!” The baton wielding worker stepped closer to his companion, both now sweating profusely as Tathra seemed to draw closer. From the corner of Tathra’s eye, he could see Pavium and his men coming around behind the two. He did not dare show any sign of recognition, his eyes fixed on the two humans in front of him.

 

[Galak]

Post Eight
Objective A
Tags: Krarolk T'manu

When Galak and their forces pushed further into the palace, they came to the final room before the Hutts secure room, a last bastion of defenders stood outside with their weapons at the ready, some were trying to get the door open whilst others were engaging his Brutes and Drones in combat. The combat was fierce, and they were fighting to their last.

But everything came to a grinding halt as the large ugly head splattered down onto the ground through the open ceiling of the final guarded floor. The guards seemed to look down in confusion and horror as they realised they had nothing left to fight for or anyone to be paid by. Galak nodded to the Zealots above, and the Brutes proceeded to slaughter the demoralised mercenaries.

In one precise stroke the Zealots had given them a great aid, and let them finish what looked to be their hardest fight today in a matter of seconds.

“This is Galak, the Palace is secure.” Galak spoke into his gauntlet communication piece, lowering the gauntlet as he reloaded his magazine in the Mauler.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Ten
Objective: B

He was ready for this altercation to be over. Thankfully, his Brutes were enroute. He could hear them, even if the Humans couldn't.

“I- I don’t know.” Betz stuttered, Pavium slowly getting behind him with his Glaive. Tathra nodded to betz, who looked even more confused as the Glaive entered his throat. The Titan darted across the distance, tearing the gun from the hands of Betz as one of the other Brutes took the head of the baton wielder.

Tathra exhaled, a sigh of relief. He dropped the blaster on the ground and retrieved his sword. “Are we secure?” The Titan asked.

“Yes, Sire.” Pavium replied, his gauntlet already at the ready to call in their Gun Boats.

Tathra placed the sword on his back, sticking against the magnetic seal on his back as he looked over the fall corpses. “Good, call in the Gunboats. You did well today, Captain.” Tathra knew it was important to acknowledge merit. He would not allow it to go unnoticed, with a prideful grin Tathra turned away and allowed the Brute to do his job.

Sleheyron had been taken, and billions had died in the battle. He had to return to the Divine Burtality, and prepare for the battle of Yurb.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: C
Post: 8

_________________________

They all screamed in their alien voices. A choir of suffering that gave the Warlock only a fleeting pleasure. Soon they were all writhing on the floor. And as their convulsions came to a slow stop, Hrajlmak returned to the great worms. His mind finally fell back into sync. A stressful kind of peace. Infuriated and quickly tiring, Hrajlmak wasted no time in maximising destruction. The Primarch’s division had done their job, unperturbed fortunately for them. Hrajlmak was focused on doing his. He looked on with a serene demeanor as massive portions of the populace collapsed into an abyss. Billions, in one fell swoop. The day neared its end. The work of the strong reaching its apex.

 

[Primal Architect]

Sleheyron has fallen. The Bryn'adûl fleet has decimated the planet within hours.
Pillars of smoke and ash are all that remain of ten billion lives.
Hungry and vengeful, dark aureate eyes look on to the horizon.
To Yurb.
To death and savagery.

They are coming.​