Dominion The Bryn'adûl | The Great An'shaerneghm of Jaminere

[Primal Architect]

The Bryn'adûl | The Great An'shaerneghm of Jaminere

At Janimere, victory has never tasted quite so sweet. The Bryn'adûl have pushed the Sith back across five star systems of their own, and following the lead of the Titan, Tathra Khaeus an army 'the Titan's Fist' fought across fourteen star systems and won. Finishing off the cornered retreating forces at Jaminere - a celebration is in order. A Galactic blow has been struck, and the entire Galaxy knowns now to fear the might of the Bryn'adûl. Our strength is unmatched.

A great An'shaerneghm for the ages is held, music and feasting fills the empty grave of the Sith City where the Draelvasier now celebrated together. Warriors fight amongst themselves in the presence of the Titan to prove their worth, dances of both a liberal and competitive nature are scattered across the now partying battlefield. Imitations of battles across the star systems, mighty foes and fallen brethren are shared around fires and charred earth.

Today, the Bryn'adûl are truly united.

Objective: BYOO
Enjoy the celebration brethren, it is one that is earned.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: One
Objective: Oversight and Observation
Location: Heart of the celebrations

Soon he would re-join the others, but for now his mind had too many voices to listen to others. He needed time, they had won yes - but his mind was not settled. More unravelled than before, there wasn't a victory in his heart. His only joy was theirs.

He was watching, always watching. The events of the battle at Nar Kreeta and the events before it had made Tathra all the more paranoid. But he knew it was rightfully so, even if under the coven of victory the majority was united under his command - Tenabraks didn’t simply go away. Neither did his thoughts about them. The Tachael Vemnak’s Seeker corp delivered footage each day from the memory walls of their observation units, and then the Prime Seekers watched over every piece of footage until a select few scans reached the Overseers - that information then if believed to be significant went on to Tathra, however all of it was available for his viewing.

It gave him an excuse to be awake whilst his own thoughts ate away at him. Looking over planets and recorded statistics. He knew it was an unhealthy habit, but something internal urged him. Urged him to look, to stew in frustrated rage as he watched the slime question his leadership. Though sometimes it wasn’t even that, sometimes when his anger reached their highest peak, it was when those he knew did things he didn’t know of.

It was easy to feel betrayed by those acting how you did not expect.

But it was the folly of a Titan to see those around them in a vacuum. To expect them to merely exist inside of your comprehension of them, anything outside of it was an attack. That ravenous caution had made him strong, tactical. His mind was agile, intellect honed. His body, crafted and perfected for not only sheer power but speed and durability. His skills, nigh unmatched. But it had also made him certifiably alone. He had no children, no anyone. This was why. That ravenous caution would bleed through into them, he would hate them as he’d hated any female Drael that dared come to close. The duty laid on his shoulders, an insurmountable and heavy task. But the Jedi amongst their lies had shown him the truth to that, his strength was born from all that he was - made manifest to lead the Draelvasier and to do simply what needed to be done.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: I
OBJECTIVE: Oversee (after all, Ostak is an Overseer)
LOCATION: Ceremony Grounds
INTERACTING WITH: Tathra Khaeus | Open to interaction

Ostak observed the ceremony with the gaze of a sentry, taking advantage of recent string of successes achieved by the Bryn'adul to rest his weary body. The past few battles had taxed him greatly, and nearly a dozen beasts of his and those under his command had been lost in the past two battles.

Still, it was a small sacrifice to pay for the vast new conquests of the species. Additionally, Ostak knew as well as any statebuilder that keeping a nation's military focus on its rival states helped prevent internal schisms caused by idle frontiers. Ultimately, the cost of insurrection was just as great, if not greater than that of a failed invasion. Such a theory had been proven at Yurb, where the defeat there temporarily reduced morale, only for heretical incidents to drop substantially after the string of successes on the Draelvasier frontier with the Sith.

While the Overseer appreciated the easy air of the ceremony, he was careful not to be deceived by appearances. Jaminere was a recent conquest, and an Overseer had yet to be assigned to the system. As a result, a collection of Enforcers had been sent to the ceremony with their regular units as a transitional force under the leadership of Ostak. So far, the Overseer had yet to hear from his Enforcers about any suspicious behavior, with numerous progress reports revealing nothing but traditional revelry and battle chatter.

As Ostak continued his easy stride through the site of the ceremony, he found his eyes drawn to the figure of the Titan, large even by Draelvasier standards. He seemed as distant from the rest of the procession as himself, perhaps remaining detached out of a sense of moral guardianship for the species. The Overseer had great respect for the Chieftain, who he quite literally owed his existence to. While there had been rare occasions such as the heretic Shipmaster crisis where he felt as if his superior had defied proper custom and overstepped his position, his strength, bravery, and above all else, his unyielding loyalty to the cause of the species made him into the legendary figure whom so many of the Draelvasier revered.

So Ostak approached the Titan, hoping to ease the burden shared by the entire leadership body of the Bryn'adul.

"Greetings, Chieftain." called Ostak, careful to keep his voice low enough to prevent his conversation from falling into the wrong ears. "My Enforcers have yet to detect any heretical activity. This celebration is possible because of your leadership, so you deserve to enjoy it as much as those under you. If you would grant me such a privilege, let me handle keeping the unsavories in line. Thinking too much about this kind of thing is bad for your brain."

A massively ironic statement, coming from an individual whose job was to lead those who had exactly those kinds of thoughts.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Two
Objective: Oversight and Observation
Location: Heart of the celebrations
Tag: Ostak Cl'mana |

But it also had its drawbacks, genius had its drawbacks. He couldn’t be exactly accurate, but he had started counting them. From Lowick to Groth and Sriluur, he’d started counting them. It left a black cloud on his mind, but it was a sigil, a damp cloud yet a burning seething pain like something burnt into the flesh of his mind that reminded him of the unwavering commitment required of him.

Nothing was too much to ensure the survival of their species. No one sacrifice or atrocity against the weak was too great to empower and raise the strong. But what did that make him; Had it ever truly been his choices, his will? Or was he simply the manifestation of the force turning the Galaxy on its head. If so, to what end? The cosmic had forever favoured the Humans, one only needs look at the history of the universe to know that. Such doubts plagued him, doubts of the sheer magnitude of the task set out before them. He would perhaps be long dead before it was ever finished. Would those that followed in his footsteps even conduct themselves in his image? Would they reflect what he had set out to do - was there any point in expecting your children to imitate you when they could possibly do better. Questions endless questions, the force. Everything since Nar Kreeta, was looked upon with a different gaze. His eyes, aged and incredibly old.

Even this magnificent victory, cutting across Sith Space with incredible precision and combative skill. Even this was reassessed in his aged mind, he had spent nights wide awake - counting. Billions of children, not only his own but the ignorant children that died for the weakness of the Galaxy. A true tragedy.

His laments were broken by the approach of the Shaman Ostak. A beast master by all accounts but more importantly a Seer. Kesh had been quite and obedient under his tenure and he had done well on Ankhypt and Nar Kreeta. A true Drael no doubt. The Shaman Overseer greeted him, speaking of the exact thing he didn't want to hear about. Tenabraks, his mind drawn to the depths and the splatter. A thunder crack rippling through time when he crushed Kar'daks head into oblivion. Then the Jedi, he had allowed her to live. Why? Her mercy was poison, and the dozens of systems burning in his grasp would prove it.

Weakness was a plague, and he would educate the Galaxy by force.

"Do as you see fit, Shaman Cl'mana." The Titan spoke with a low and hushed baritone, still stringent yet, strong and bold but restrained, contemplative.

 

[Osam]

Objective: Celebrate
Post One

There was an overabundance to feast upon. Foodstuffs were scattered hither and thither throughout the city with different members of his kindred scattered throughout different alleyways and rubble and structures, each of them gathering to enjoy celebrations and camaraderie with one another. There was the sound of well-played and amateur music filling the air emanating from a dozen different directions as Draelvasier tried their hand at the art. Of course, even in celebration, there were the cries of combat and pain - the mighty often took such opportunities to challenge one another to sparring bouts or honorable contests of strength and intellect.

The Major was exceptionally appreciative of being allowed presence within the main celebration areas. In the past, when he had been little more than Sraelvun, he had typically been confined alongside his kindred to the further corners of such gatherings. While it had been a somewhat bigoted approach, it had worked decently enough. The Sraelvun didn't necessarily share a significant amount of time with any individual Baedurin or Aeravalin, and it was easier for them to associate with others of their kind within their near-tribal groups. Being on the outskirts had also allowed them to participate in their bloodsports with whatever survivors had been secreted away before a sapient races' total extermination.

Osam considered where his old companions must've been in relation to this mess, and what activities they might be involved in at the moment. Did any of them remember him? Did they miss his company, or had they simply assumed that he might've died or abandoned them? He resolved to take a few moments later in the day to visit his old Sraelvun companions, and perhaps share in some of the meat they'd gathered from previous battles. It'd been a little while since he'd managed to take the flesh of his kind into his maw, and the succulent flesh called to him from time to time.

He searched about the festivities, looking for a familiar face to join in the celebration. He did settle on the imposing figure of the Titan, but he had very little inclination towards associating directly with him. Not out of any dislike, but simply because he believed that those of higher rank would likely gather about to discuss more important matters with him, and while Osam was the First of the Risen, and held some degree of honor because of it, he was still a lowly Major. He didn't recognize the individual near him either, but perhaps he was another of the mighty high-ranks that he simply didn't recognize. Where was Galak when he needed to know who people were?

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Objective: Celebrate
Location: Jaminere Surface, Main Feasting Area
Tags: Osam

In a swathe of fury and retribution the Draelvasier emerged victorious over the Sith. It was a rare occurrence, one that demanded a celebration. The Sith were normally the ones bathing in festivities over their tremendous expansion throughout the galaxy. It seemed the roles were reversed. The Bryn had proven time and time again that they were next. That they would be the ones to rapidly snuff out those that stood in their ever growing empire. It was clear that not even the strength of the Sith Empire would be able to prevent their tyrannical footprint that pushed forward. These victories continued to remind them, all of them; that they were chosen to rip out weakness and replace it with strength. Still, there were many more worlds to conquer and in truth, their recent conquests had given them time for peace. With it they reveled in everything Draelvasier.

Food, Drink, Dance, Singing, Music, Combat, Games and other forms of entertainment.

All of this meshed together as the bright lit fires swung overhead in their metal pilots. The tables stuck together like glue, each one with a plethora of food. Each plate with an amassing amount of rare meat, local fruits, and exceptional bones for a cleanser at the end of ones gluttonous rampage. Unlike many that would rush to stuff themselves, even in victory the Ashaka Weaver had no appetite. Maybe it was the joyous feeling of overwhelming positivity. Or maybe it was the fact that he could still see the vivid screams and images from the Leviathan back on Ankhypt. The creature was a vine of corruption and Sylok couldn't shake its influence. Even now, he could faintly remember the red sharp threads of the force submerging him in a sea of dark. Sylok grinned, his teeth shifting as his eyes shifted to the other Sraelvun standing close by.

Sylok shook off the odd feeling and walked closer, he hoped conversation would make him forget the horrors of his past.

"Major, glad to see you've made it to the main area." Sylok was truly happy for him, being a Aeravalin that didn't fit in was one thing. Being a Sraelvun that climbed to heights of respect was another. Each of them shared the judgement of others. What truly mattered is Sylok's opinion of the Major Osam . He had respect for him. The Risen had proven himself on many battlefields. Even more so, when he watched the acts of his valiant effort on Ylesia. Either way, the two of them both earned their right to stand before the celebrations of the Draelvasier. ​

 

[Galak]

Post: One
Objective: Drink up me hardies yo ho
Tags: Kelmor | Keldothera |

The ale jugs churned, crashing against one and other as he erupted into laughter watching Gakpa and Delx play the insult match out, feeling each other out with each insult. The communication stones were tuned in to their emotions.

Depending on however brightly the stone burned would determine how insulted the opponent felt. At the end of the round, whoever's was brightest lost. It was hilarious, watching the hot-tempered try to hide it and those who didn't care decided to chide it.

They had fought so long and so hard. All the things they'd lost, Pavium and the others. Ylesia against the monstrosities and the abominations, Nar Kreeta against the Jedi and all of these star systems against the Sith. They had earned a celebration, they had earned this victorious celebration.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: II
OBJECTIVE: Oversee (after all, Ostak is an Overseer)
LOCATION: Ceremony Grounds
INTERACTING WITH: Osam | Sylok'Vanari | Open to interaction

"Then allow me to ease your workload." concluded Ostak to the Chieftain before departing.
​

As he suspected, he felt a great deal of stress from the Titan. The Overseer could only imagine what types of difficulties leading an entire empire could present and to what degree they burdened him. He had expected this ceremony to ease the Chieftain out of those responsibilities, at least temporarily. However, it seemed as if he remained vigilant to the end.

Deciding to leave his Chieftain's woes to himself, Ostak walked deeper into the ceremonial grounds.

As he continued further, a certain figure caught his eye. A particularly distinguished member of the "Risen" Sraelvun and Major who he recognized as Osam stood several meters away, observing the festivities. Ostak was largely unfamiliar with the Risen aside from their supposed ascendancy compared to ordinary Drones, and the presence of the Major peaked his curiosity. Still, it was not something that he would admit out loud lest he alienate the individual he was about to talk to.

"Greetings, Major." called Ostak to Osam, approaching him at a casual walking speed.
"And you, too, Ashaka Weaver." continued Ostak as he noticed the individual in Ashaka clothing nearby. "I'm Shaman Beast Master Ostak Cl'mana. You both fought on Ankhypt or Nar Kreeta, correct? If so, then this ceremony is well deserved."

 

[Osam]

Objective: Celebration
Post Two
Tags: Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana

Osam found himself suddenly pulled away from his thoughts by the arrival of a friendly face. While he'd not interacted with Sylok for a significant amount of time, the short period in which they'd been bound in company had been thoroughly eventful. He thought back to the immense agony that he'd felt only a mere hour or so before he'd gotten to meet the Ashaka adept. For a moment, he questioned whether considering the terror might somehow reinvigorate it in his system, as if though his thoughts would summon forth a phantom pain, but none came to greet him.

Sylok greeted him and spoke positively about his presence among the others of their kind. Osam offered something akin to a smile and a nod which was both respectful and companionable. "Were it not for your assistance, I would not be able to stand at all - here or elsewhere." That much was true. Were it not for the ministrations of his Ashaka ally, he almost certainly would've completely lost the ability to stand, and been reduced to a mere cripple. Perhaps he might've been given some degree of respect and kept alive... but he sincerely doubted that he'd last long once his weakness was known.

"Perhaps you'd join me for some games or refreshment, wise Ashaka?" He offered, casting a hand towards the wide variety of recreational activities underway, and the massive feasting that accompanied it. His offer was somewhat interrupted, however, when another individual approached the pair. This one was immediately recognizable as the being he had seen near the Titan. Before he'd even managed to introduce himself, Osam knew that he was a person of great power and respect. "Greetings Beast Master Cl'mana." He spoke upon the other's introduction.

There was mention of how both the Ashaka and himself had fought upon the worlds of Ankypt and Nar Kreeta, and the Major nodded. "On Nar Kreeta I fought in the undercity, and was given control of the forces of General Keldothera to support Emissary Galak." He said, pointing attention to his successes in that particular battle. "On Ankypt I was with the Emissary again, part of his strike-team. It was after that battle that I met the honorable Weaver." He gesticulated towards Sylok, choosing to refer to him as his earned title.

"Perhaps you'd join us for a game, Beast Master?"

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Objective: Celebrate & Win the Game!
Location: Jaminere Surface, Main Feasting Area
Tags: Osam | Ostak Cl'mana

Sylok moved his lengthy fingers into a closing motion, his thumb the last thing to be tucked inward towards his palm. This wasn't anger, but excitement. It had been a long time since he was challenged in a game of wisdom. Let alone, had time to even partake. Their victories from time to time would allow peaceful interactions with one another, Sylok hoped their passion for war didn't sink into their societal structure. He hoped their rage wouldn't overcome what they truly were...peaceful creatures seeking acceptance. If pushing back the Sith was any indication, they were surely earn it soon enough. Still, the Draelvasier knew as long as others existed outside their walls of metal and blood. They would have to fight. They would have to learn. They would have to endure. They had to rid them of the galaxy so they could remain in peace. So, they would continue to push onward, killing, pillaging, and taking all that was rightfully earned bu their own hands.

All of that could wait. Now, it was time to challenge the Sraelvun and a newcomer from the shade of the Titan's chambers. A beast master, the one they called Ostak. Sylok heard of his achievements, more so of his incredible units power amid beasts that could rip apart the enemy with swift and powerful blows. Sylok smiled, any game with two respected Draels would garner a crowd, it was the only way Sylok could truly outwit his others. The words of the Srael reached him, the kindness shown a decency he wasn't naturally used to. Then again, making a Major capable of standing again couldn't be taken lightly. Sylok was gifted in the arts of healing. Even more so, further into force applications he continued to practice with. All that aside, Sylok felt great about the acknowledgement from his peer.

"Osam a game sounds fantastic, did you have one in mind?" Sylok asked, his white pupils shifting to the beast master Ostak Cl'mana. "Both, I spent my time in Ankhypt keeping the Leviathan at bay. Nar Kreeta I wasn't so lucky, barely made it out. If it wasn't for Osam 's general Keldothera I wouldn't be here myself." Sylok gestured to the Major as he finished. It was a way for saying thanks after everything was said and done. Neither of them would be standing, let alone breathing if it weren't for the other and their influence on and off the battlefield.

Sylok shifted his glance over to a wide wooden table with a few Drael yelling back and forth. A game of dice spread along the edges of the table before two large Baedurin left in a angry manner. Sylok turned his attention back to the Beast Master and the Major.

"Ostak, Osam, how about some dice? We can talk about our wars over a game of bluffs." Sylok lightly chuckled, his arms lifted and widened.

The motion invited them to a table with three upside-down handmade cups. Each of them hiding the most important component to the game.

Dice..​

 

[Sethrak]

Post One

It was his first celebration but he did no celebrating. The Warlock was empty still. The only fillings were battle and pain. He had fought several smaller battles since the huge victories that had sent ripples through the galaxy, and every time he felt fine, but as soon as they ended he had no purpose. Before their defeats, he had fought and lived without question but now, with the heretic cause dead, he had nothing.

If Tathra Khaeus told him to fight, he would fight. It would take his mind off things, he would have a purpose: Kill the weak, show mercy. But then he would return and do what? Eat, Sleep, and wait for his next deployment. Now there was a celebration, a great feast with many of the higher-ranking Bryn. There were games but he had no desire to play them. Why did he have to live when so many others had died? They had a goal in their lives, though he didn't know what it was. They deserved a chance to reach that goal.

Indeed, Sethrak would do no celebrating. If he was approached, he would respond. If he was offered food, he would take it. But he would not enjoy this celebration.

He found a less-populated area of the feast where he could be overlooked. Once he reached it, he stayed there, thinking of every kill and every failure he had created. It was true, he had seen success many times and he had killed perhaps hundreds of foes. His failures were few....most notably the underground city that was buried along with many troops under his command.

These thoughts spawned a question. He was strong in combat, and had proved it time and time again, but he was weak-minded. He had allowed two defeats to shake his faith in Tathra. He had then allowed the death if the heretic movement to make his life completely empty. If he was weak in will, but strong in battle...which one was he in the end? Was he strong, mighty like The Primarch, or the Titan, or was he a victim of the cancer that was called weakness? The same cancer that the Bryn'Adûl had fought, had died, to eradicate.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

POST: III
OBJECTIVE: Oversee (the dice game)
LOCATION: Ceremony Grounds
INTERACTING WITH: Osam | Sylok'Vanari | Open to interaction

"It would be an honor to join you two in a game of dice, Major Osam and Weaver Sylok." replied Ostak.
​

The dice game was an activity that was millenia old, but had been picked up by the Draelvasier, revised, and incorporated into their culture as an easygoing entertainment game. On a nearby table were three cups, each containing a six-sided die. Before the game started, the cups would be lifted up by a judge, revealing the contents of the die. The goal of the players would be to memorize the topmost number on the die of their choosing and then pick the correct corresponding cup after the physically identical cups were scrambled across the table. The first player to incorrectly guess the location of the die with the number that they had initially selected lost the game.

"Allow me to judge." continued Ostak. "May the keenest mind win."
​

Reaching out with his inner spiritual energies, Ostak used telekinesis to raise the cups up about a meter, giving the Major and Weaver a good view of the die. After five seconds, Ostak lowered the cups and swung them around, moving them erratically around and beside each other. As he moved the cups, he began to talk, eager to test the concentration of the players.

"I, too served in both Nar Kreeta and Ankhpyt." stated Ostak. "It seems as if Nar Kreeta was hard for all of us - I ended up leading a cavalry charge after the beasts of me and my fellow Shamen took heavy casualties against an armored column, fortunately we all survived without any major injuries. Ankhpyt went much better for our unit, but it was still a difficult fight. Our Protectors nearly got fried by the lasers fired by one of those giant automatons."

 

[Osam]

Post Three
Tags: Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana

While Osam had been quick to invite both Sylok and Ostak to a game of sorts, he hadn't actually considered what they would play, or whether there ought to be any stakes involved in it. He knew that at least a few Sraelvun would at times wager particularly exceptional equipment that they'd managed to "salvage" from the battlefields with one another. Such tools could easily change the course of a conflict and guarantee the survival of one of their race, and so it had not been entirely uncommon for them to treat these things as usable treasures.

Thankfully, after sharing a similarly approving message directed towards the Major, Sylok offered a game of dice as their chosen activity. The hybrid nodded his acceptance of this, and Ostak himself seemed quite pleased with the choice. Of course, he seemed more willing to judge the outcome of the match than to play himself, but perhaps they would be able to take turns after the first match had concluded. It wouldn't hurt to see the Beast Master's intellect tested even in recreation.

Taking his station at the table, Osam immediately began to review what he knew of the game and disappointingly discovered that he knew relatively little. The rules themselves were at least vaguely known to him, but any tips and tricks for guaranteeing victory had been lost to him. For all of the years that he'd existed, he'd not found himself locked in particularly many dice games. He'd also been drawn more towards the other recreations offered by his fellow Sraelvun such as their bloody hunts.

The Major observed as the dice were revealed and then covered over once again before being shifted hither and thither. Clearly, Ostak was utilizing one of his powers to perform the act - Osam vaguely questioned whether there were any limits to what could or couldn't be lifted, but his primary focus was on the dice before him, hidden away in their shells. As focused as he was, he only barely heard Ostak speak of his own experiences, giving a brief nod as though to indicate perceptiveness when in reality very little remained.

"If you'd like the first turn, Sylok, you may have it." He offered, at last, glancing upwards to see whether the Weaver would accept the challenge.

 

[Sethrak]

Post 2
Objective: Reflect
Tags: Tathra Khaeus Ostak Cl'mana

He wasn't weak for having the feelings, and he hadn't had them long enough to judge himself based on his response to them. At least that was what he chose to tell himself. In truth the heretic thoughts had been there for a long time. He felt like he had handled them well....

He had been patient.

His thoughts traveled to the rogue shipmaster. He had convinced him to turn back, to face Tathra Khaeus properly and apologize. As for Tathra, well, Tathra knew what the Warlock expected. Somehow he knew. The Titan had shown that he could forgive. He was set to spare the shipmaster, but then his own urges took over. A separate force of heretics had made a move against Tathra. The Chieftan responded by blaming the shipmaster. That day, half of the patrol was killed for doubting him. That had been the final step for Sethrak. Only then did he truly join the heretics.

He had been patient.

He had been honorable.

Despite his anger and distrust of Tathra, Sethrak had never acted against him. He had spoken with heretics, urged them to be patient. Never had he helped them fight against the Titan. When the Bryn campaigns against The Sith and The Jedi were launched, Sethrak didn't resist. He followed orders, he fought valiantly...as if he had never doubted Tathra. He had even supported Tathra mentally when he led the charge against the undead Sith hordes. Indeed, he had hoped for a victory that day, knowing that it would be the end of the heretic movement if they won. He had put the Bryn'Adûl over the Heretics.

He had been honorable.

He would apologize.

Finally, he had one final step to take. To eradicate the rebellious, heretic thoughts, he needed to face Tathra. For months he had prepared to fight the Titan, knowing that his next meeting with the Chieftain could be his last. But this was a different kind of confrontation. Instead of questioning the Titan, or killing him, the young Warlock would apologize. He would accept his failures and face the wrath of Tathra if it came to it. In doing so, he would either regain the Titan's trust and restore the status quo, or he would meet his end.

He would apologize.

 

[Keldothera]

Post: One
Objective: Galak | Osam | Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana |
Obj: Relax

Keldothera was half armoured, she had no intention of enjoying this celebration in full gear. Instead she sat with thighs crossed, legs dangling over one and other as she drank and ate. But she sat alone, enjoying the festivities from an isolated perspective.

She would require some liquid courage to join in their games. But, so far she had no desire to. The merriment itself was enough enjoyment for her, the fine pressed welline alcohol tasted of sweet fruits - much to her preference than dry hard liquor.

If someone were to speak with her, they'd find her more interested in the contents of her mug than their social skills, she had had far too many experiences of Draelvasier males trying their luck consequently tripping over themselves in the process. But all the same, it was a good time to enjoy ones self. In whatever way any Drael saw fit for themselves.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: One
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |
Objective: Speak

Victory.

Something every species regardless of how different wished for themselves. But it was usually for the individual, not the whole. Today the Draelvasier celebrated victory as a whole, they had fought and won as one so now they celebrated it. Of course there were those who were to be commended but that was a different issue entirely.

Drek’ma watched from the sidelines, silent as the Titan interacted with the Overseer. He could feel the weight, even the air felt dense to a force sensitive around him. Though that weight wasn’t what concerned him, Tathra had become nearly deranged before the Campaigns. But now instead he just seemed quiet and contemplative.

Not revelling in his victory, as he should. No?

He would speak to him and discover the truth of the discomfort. He began to make his way toward the Titan, to stand adjacent to his throne.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Three
Objective: Oversight and Observation
Location: Heart of the celebrations
Tag: Ostak Cl'mana | Primarch Drek'ma |

"On that I will not argue with you over, Overseer." The pretext of Shaman and Commander, set aside in that moment of acknowledgement. In its place the recognition of overseer and Titan. But Tathra indeed wished for some respite. And his fellow leadership saw it, and they granted it. A kindness, one he appreciated.

The suggestion was a valid one, and it would be time that he took advantage. The Vemnak would take care of anything that was required of them, for now he would try his best to take his mind away from the headaches and endless plotting. Take his mind away from the insanity of battle and the hundreds more to come. This battle would never be over, so one had to take respite where they could. Or else they would be driven mad, empty - lost. He knew some indeed felt this way, his doubters now shared his inner-doubt rather than outward ones. Now, they knew how it felt, and the emptiness that followed.

They would either learn from it, or it would destroy them as it had the ancient Drael.

He looked around, washing his hands in the dim coal coloured water before turning around to observe the celebratory preparations. Everything was in full flux without him, that was good. This wasn’t a battlefield, they didn’t need to wait for him to take charge. But, even if it wasn’t a battlefield he was still expected to be at the helm.

There was always a seat, a throne of some kind at these things. Somewhere he was supposed to sit that oversaw the celebrations and allowed others to come speak with him. On this day, it sat with a small table for others on its side. But the seats were empty and so were his, the ground beneath their feet was lit by campfire, candles and starlight. But it didn’t change the feeling of it, a mixture of flattened armour and debris. The throne was the same one they had used on Ankhypt.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Two
Tags: Tathra Khaeus
Objective: Speak

But as quickly as he began to make his way through the crowd, it turned on him. All around him were Shamans and various members of the Ashaka and Warlocks respectively wishing to speak with him. A low hiss of frustration escaped lips, not one that could be heard above the commotion though.

“Primarch, I would seek counsel with you.”

“Not now, adept.”

“Primarch Drek’ma I believe I should speak w-”

“Step aside please.” ​

This sequence continued for some moments as Drek’ma pushed his way through the crowd. They may have wanted his attention but ultimately they respected that he did not want theirs, he wanted calm. Quiet. Perhaps not so much these things, as in truth what he wanted was a conversation with a particular Drael.

A necessary conversation.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Four
Objective: Oversight and Observation
Location: Heart of the celebrations
Tag: Primarch Drek'ma

A strange irony, this had all begun with an attack on Ankhypt; a battle against them. And now it ended with the same Throne he had sat upon years ago. Ironic, but amusing. Tathra sat down into the Throne, its mold perfect for him even in his armour. He settled down, right elbow resting against the armrest as he leaned on his fist, pressing into his cheekbone as he watched. He had things that needed doing, bravery that required recognition. But not yet, not quite yet. He wouldn’t deny those that sought him the opportunity to do so.

From his cuirass he took a small amulet, a trinket that glowed dull. He had taken it from the Jedi, it had been an accident but one he had chosen to keep. It was mysterious, but not unlike mutagens or other imbued items he had seen before. It seemed to heal, but it gleamed an insight into the knowledge that he had plundered when the Jedi opened his mind.

Jedi Insight, jedi understanding that allowed him to tune in so to speak. When he held it, he listened. All around them, the fires and the rolling dice. Everything peeled away as he simply listened. It wasn’t dissimilar to when he joined with the Seers, showing him things of force-bound prophecy and chance. But this was solitary, alone in the immense dark. His body felt cold, ears burning.

Was he meditating?

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Three
Tags: Tathra Khaeus
Objective: Speak

Distractions and frustrations were mounting. The crowd did not part as easily as he would have wanted, but those sensitive to such things could feel the Primarch syphoning power to accomplish something. Some were afraid, some were curious - but all he cared about was getting a move on.

Drek’ma disappeared in a puff of white energy, bypassing the annoying crowd as he reappeared adjacent to the Titan’s throne by a few steps. The force moved differently around him now, changed by something. It was strange, but one could almost be mistook for thinking he was tapping into the force. Though, they all knew that was thoroughly impossible.

“Sire.” He spoke, but deigned not to interrupt him rudely. Even among peers, on occasions such as this respect was required.

Demanded, rather. The success of the Titan demanded respect and he was happy to give it.