Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Together We Rebuild | Varl

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Post: Four
Tags: TBD

The gunboat arrived at the upper levels of the Super-Construct., the wind bustled as the landing bay hatch extended down to the platform. Tathra descended upon the metal steps, a cloud of dust rising from the unfinished steps of the construct platform. Tathra's cold opaque eyes looked outward the delegation moving to meet him. He recognised a few, mostly mutation experts but also Shamans who were preparing the new beasts. There were six of them, three Shamans and three Mutagen weavers. They had been hard at work - no doubt. Toiling non-stop for the last month or so for the creations willed by the Chieftain and the Ish'makra, representing the wishes of their most established Generals and Warriors.

As the delegation met him halfway, each bowed their head. Tathra lightly prodded his right fist against the left breast of his armour. Formalities were not so much needed here, this was not the Ish'makra. Though even so he appreciated their respect.

"Show me." Was the Titan's sole response.

Without as much as a word, the group made their way into the Construct. Tathra expected results, and on the heels of warfare there was no time for idle laziness or incompetence. The air was laid thick with tension as the elevator dropped deeper into the bowels of the construct.

 

[Osam]

Post 2
Objective: Consolidate

There was a mental image that came to his mind at the peak of his despair. It was a wide panorama of memory, a broad stroke that allowed for the identification of a number of persons he had encountered throughout his life. Especially prominent were those who possessed such great aspects of strength and power that it was unfeasible for them to be anywhere but in the foreground. Ones such as the Emissary who had hoisted an entire beast alongside four chosen warriors, and ones such as the Primarch who were capable of utilizing the vicious Servitors and Draeyde swarms to cause utmost obliteration.

Most prominent of all was Tathra, the Titan, the progenitor of their species. He was mighty and just, made up of qualities that befitted his position as the leader of the Draelvasier and of the Crusade. Yet, when he scoured his mind, he became acutely aware of his own lack of presence. Where was he when compared to such giants of prowess and ability? He was a rodent to them, a mere scuttering thing inching its way along the ground, happy to accept praise wherever it was given, and to lead others of their kind.

Would he ever become anything more? He tried, he fought and killed in the pursuit of greater glory, but even now he wondered what the others really thought of him. Had he become so socially susceptible in such a short period of time, or had that desire for affirmation always been there somewhere in his Risen-Sraelvun body.

A figure passed along in the hallway outside of the room, but he didn't recognize who had stepped along. Perhaps one of his Risen allies, those ones who had been elevated thanks to his struggle, who saw him as the First of their ilk. He'd garnered respect, at least, among them... and perhaps that would be enough to sate his appetite for ambitious rise.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Post: Five
Tags: TBD

As the elevator descended into the depths of the Construct, once again Tathra clasped his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for their descent to grind to a halt. He was eager to see what they made been able to muster in such short a span of time that it now required his attention. Grendrada was up front, right at the exit with the two other Mutagen weavers or experts beside him. He did not know their names, nor their faces. There had been a time when he had known every Draelvasier under his command.

But as time marched on, progress forced him to lose touch with his kin. An upsetting reality and a necessary sacrifice. Not all fathers had the blessing of knowing their children, and vice versa. Yet another burden to carry. To his left and right directly were two Shaman Adepts and ahead of them Beast Master Adjarak. Drek'ma had chosen him specifically for this task, an understudy of his own methods. His own attention seemed drawn to Adjarak, he couldn't tell why but he felt as though the Shaman's eyes had been fixatedly driven to him ever since they had arrived.

Not necessarily focused on the task at hand. Strange, but not impossible. Tathra was curious, curious enough to prod in this long dull travel. He did not like feeling stagnant, but patience taught one to make efficient use of stagnant and inopportune moments. But instead it seemed Adjarak was to initiate for him, the Beast Master slowly but surely turning to address him.

 

[Galak]

Post: Seven
Objective: Consolidate | Pavium POV
Tags: N/A

Pavium had walked away moments before the Zealot arrived, moving to get a new ale. Standing at the self-service kiosk, the Brute Captain waited in line behind a few others. He thought he recognised the next in line, thumping the Zealots shoulder. The Zealot turned with a growling look of frustration on his face, fangs bared. Though his features softened as he recognised Pavium.

“Pavium?” The Zealot asked, quizzical. The Brute Captain responded with a smile, yes indeed. He knew this Zealot. They’d both trained in the same class of the Kaden’maris. He remembered when Sarkad was chosen as a Zealot and he a Brute. Pavium grasped his armour by the collar, giving it a slight tug as he looked him over.

“Sarkad! Looking well brethren!” Pavium thumped his fist on the breastplate, he recognised the armour of a Zealot Shadow. A hunter, an assassin. A very different occupation than his own.

“Not looking so bad yourself, Pavium. Captain now? Salutations, brother.” Sarkad removed his helmet, he was missing an ear. But Pavium didn’t let himself get distracted by it.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Post: Six
Tags: TBD

"Sire." Beast Master Adjarak bowed as he addressed him, Tathra returned the nod, though his eyes shifted to the others in the elevator. Grendrada in particular seemed irritated, perhaps they had anticipated this but did not wish for it to occur. In truth, that only drove his curiosity further. He needed to hear what Adjarak had to say. Tathra looked around the elevator, it seemed they were all waiting for his response. They'd rather just hope the issue disappeared rather than draw attention to it by addressing it. That was not their way, some irritancies did not require direct interference but Tathra would leave no stone unturned in regards to issues or worries regarding powerful new beasts.

"Speak, Beast Master Adjarak." Tathra responded, his attention returning to the Shaman. Adjarak seemed surprised that he was getting the opportunity to air whatever it was he had to say. Perhaps the others had indicated that that would not be the case. Tathra always listening to his loyal Drael or tried to.

"Sire. It is my belief that the Guardians are not ready yet. They only barely can be controlled by a Beast Master." Adjarak explained, seemingly frustrated and exhausted of this topic. Perhaps these debates had wrung through these corridors long before he had arrived.

"We've been over this debate bef-" Grendrada exasperated, turning his head slightly - speaking through gritted teeth. Tathra raised his palm, requesting silence for the Mutagen expert as he returned his focus to Adjarak.

 

[Galak]

Post: Eight
Objective: Consolidate | Pavium POV
Tags: N/A

“I know, the ear.” Sarkad shrugged, unashamed of his wound. “No surprise I couldn’t hear your approach, you mouth-breather.” Sarkad said through a smile. Pavium couldn’t help but laugh, slowly moving closer to the kiosk. Only one left ahead of them.

“Hah! Still never stronger genes have I seen, Arkad! Your carapace might be as tough as the Chieftains himself!” Pavium was being hyperbolic, of course. But what kind of Baedurin didn’t take the time to remind their brethren of their worth? Galak always did it. And if Pavium could ever be as good of a Drael as Galak, he could die content.

Arkad snorted at the notion. Gesturing to Pavium himself; “If my hide was so strong I would not have the occupation I do now, brethren. My strength is my blade.” Pavium conceded with a nod, the last in their way to the Kiosk now moving away as both turned to refill their beverages.

“Still drinking Baros root?” Arkad asked, filling up Paviums mug. The Captain nodded, it still tasted the best. If there was any reason to plunder the Galaxy, it was to taste their ales.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Post: Seven
Tags: TBD

"Go on." The last thing they needed on the battlefield was for massive Servitors to go wild and bury them all in a chasm. The elevator came to a crawl, then stopped. Though nobody left the elevator, the door didn't even open. Everything hinged on what Adjarak had to say, and no bout the Beast Master could feel it. He was nervous and Tathra could smell it.

"I do not believe the Guardians are ready, nor the Alpha M'gaelak or Superiors. We need more time and resources. Creatures of this scale, it is new for us." Adjarak seemed exhausted, rings under his eyes. He seemed earnest, and the lack of objection from his comrades would seem to corroborate this. Tathra turned his attention to the Mutagen Weavers, in particular - Grendrada. What did the expert have to say in all of this.

"Grendrada - TALK." Tathra growled, they should've been able to come to a singular conclusion among themselves. But it seemed that was now his job.

"The Shamans have been reluctant, refusing our mutagen enhancements to help deal with the stress of commanding something an order of magnitude larger than usual. We suggest the Shamans should just try harder. Their pride is wasting time." Tathra watched as Adjarad did all that he could to hold his tongue, the two mutagen weavers and shamans looking between themselves anxiously.

Tathra sighed through his growling tone - looking among them. "Show me." With that command, the elevator doors slid open and the delegation lead him down the right corridor.

"We will solve this here and now or I'll have both your skulls beneath my Axe." It was indeed a threat, but it was an honest one. He had no time for soldiers at the forefront to be putting petty grudges ahead of their progress. This was not their way, the Draelvasier grew in strength through unity - together they surpassed weakness. Grendrada and Adjarak on the other hand only seemed to want to cause discourse and have it their 'way'.

There was no way but his.

 

[Galak]

Post: Nine
Objective: Consolidate | Pavium POV
Tags: N/A

“Of course, these worlds are ripe for plunder. Why not their oak and ale too?” Pavium explained, following Arkad back to where he sat. The Zealot looked over for a moment, seemingly surprised that Pavium had come with him.

“Are you here on your own then, brother?” Arkad asked, no doubt surprised by Pavium’s independence perhaps? Pavium had always been second, always been following someone else’s footsteps. But that was indeed the life of a loyal warrior that knew their place.

The Captain shook his head in reply; “No, I am here with the Emissary.” Pavium explained, nodding in the direction of Galak currently conversing with a Zealot of his own. Arkad looked over his shoulder, eyes seeming leaping between the two. Pavium was proud to say he was with Galak, he was an incredibly Emissary. He cared about his warriors and fought like a true Baedurin.

“Galak.. Hmm. He’s the one that beat me to a pulp in the Bedlakorum, no?” Arkad responded, a semi-serious tone taking hold. Pavium nodded, drinking deep of his beverage.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: FOUR
OBJECTIVE: CONSOLIDATE (Krarolk) / RITE OF ENDING (Abvor & Commander)
BYRN IN VICINITY: Galak | Primarch Drek'ma

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Emissary." replied Krarolk with genuine sincerity. "Zealot Elite Krarolk, at your service."
​

The Zealot took a moment to stand back, watching the squad interact. They seemed to be a friendly, rowdy group, living their lives to their fullest. Truthfully, the Zealot was a bit jealous. As an Elite, he typically served in squads of three, prioritizing ruthless efficiency and commando tactics over brute charges with the support of an army. Even outside of battle, the Zealot Elite was hardly seen away from the trio. In fact, it was rumored that the three all shared the same quarters. And in the few instances that Krarolk had been spotted away from his squad outside of combat, he was always rigorously training his body and mind. As one of the most elite operatives in the Byrn'adul army, it was expected of Krarolk that he would constantly be in prime condition. Not a day had gone by in years where he had not gone to sleep with his muscles and brain alike stretched to their limit.


Still, despite his numerous accomplishments, the Zealot Elite hid a jealousy of the Brutes who had such passionate social experiences.

"Your kin seem to be enjoying themselves." continued Krarolk, emerging from his somber thoughts. "If they've even drawn another Zealot over, then they must be popular among this crowd."

Meanwhile, the Zealot Commander stood silently as he allowed the Primarch to finish putting the quarreling groups in line. Upon the Primarch's conclusion, the Commander turned away, sending a murderous glare in the direction of the Brutes and Zealots alike before continuing on his stride. Then, the Commander called out to the Primarch.

"Are there any duties here that require my assistance?"

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Location: Varl Surface | Bonfire, Not Yet Started
Draels Interacting with: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir
Tags: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Krarolk T'manu | Gredak Tenebris | Primarch Drek'ma | Osam |

Sylok observed the small frame of the female Zealot, the one they called, "Little Girl." It was an easy way to shun someone of their own kind. Again, strength is what mattered to the Bryn'Adûl, so any forms of defective specimens were an easy target. For Sylok, he could relate, he even wondered, Do they call me Little Man? His pool of grey clouds for eyes stared into hers, another storm much like his own held deep within. He understood the young zealot's pain, the pain of being different and being reminded everyday. He wasn't sure to what extent the unpleasant banter had caused her among the Baedurin, but he knew if it was anything similar to the same thing he experienced, she too would be in for a lonely way about life. The truth, at least, for now; was they both were more useful in other aspects than just raw strength, they had something the others didn't. The constant clawing of approval, the one thing that seemed to evade them both. All of this from the eyes of another. He snapped back into reality, if any of the others could hear his thoughts, he'd be shunned forever. The words of the girl slipped out to confirm what he already knew.

<”It's me yes! You don't have to apologize. What can I do for you?”>
"Right, well I'm Sylok'Vanari." He responded quickly, the outer ridges of his teeth slicing at the empty air. "You seemed deep in thought, what do you make of all this?" Sylock asked, curious to see if he was the only one that considered the ritual useless.

The dead couldn't feel anything, they were dead. It was a empty way of looking at the outcome, but Sylok couldn't train his mind to change. Rejuvenating the wounded scarred him, but made him smarter than the others in terms of biological cures. Without his mind, he considered himself worthless. The views of few had made him humble. It drove him to prove more to his people. To learn everything he could to lead his species to a better future, he was Aeravalin, through and through. It was his job, but most of all, it kept him alive among their ranks. After facing the trials in the past to get into the Order of Ashaka, he knew the opinion of others would bare its own weight. The kicker, even with all the cruel things that others said, they came to love him in their moment of vulnerability. They were a proud race, but not immortal. Sylok was their saving grace and while he was blind to such importance or not, it was vital to them all. The ones that were really thankful, started calling him, "The Mender."

The title came with pressure, but it was the first recognition he was given since his existence five years ago. He hoped that those that spoke of him in such a way, weren't thinking that he could save them all. He couldn't. When he couldn't, they would die like the rest, with that blood on his hands. Then like a sensation of emotion, there was one thing that was left after every loss. ​

Guilt.

​

Template Made By: Annasari​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Post: Eight
Tags: TBD

As the delegation came to a halt, they were overseeing a massive chamber, on the platforms below thousands of small restraining mechanisms held a Guardian in place - one thousand metres of flesh and hide, nearly five times the size of the standard Servitors. Of course, these creatures were nothing compared to the mass and size of Hadad, but all the same such powerful creatures were truly things of pure wonder. They were magnificent, powerful creatures.

"We've achieved a docile state for most creatures, but its the more complex commands we are struggling with. Not all of us are the Primarch, we need multiple Shamans to even control a Guardian, direct its path." Adjarak explained as they observed the massive creature, its clawed face was disturbing; even to Tathra. And he had seen many things one would rather not think of, things that would drive a Drael mad.

But what was more maddening was the sheer incompetence. Not that they were unskilled or fools, but the indecision wasted time - wasted lives.

"At least allow us to try some of our faculty mutagens on volunteers!" The Mutagen specialised implored, turning to Adjarak directly.

"Untested, experimental mutagens? You are not turning any of my Shamans into drooling fools, Grendrada!" The tension was palpaple, laid thick. Both had points of contention worth taking into account. But Tathra did not have time to dither and hear it all. Not now - he had somewhere to be, soon.

"The more time wasted, the more lives lost. Come to a compromise or I will make the decision for you. I will return after the ceremony." He had arrived hoping to hear good news, hoping to simply check in and see what progress they had made. But instead, it seemed Tathra was faced with more and more challenges as time went on. The Chieftain returned to the elevator alone, the ride up felt longer than the one going down.

At the top of the platform, his Gunboat still sat - awaiting his return.

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Reidun Amersis
The Little Girl, Zealot minor​

Location: Varl
Objective: OBJECTIVE II – Rite of Ending
Equipment: 2x Barad kukri | Barad Spike Rifle | Barad Special Operations Armour
Tag(s): Sylok'Vanari

Unlike many, Reidun didn’t really care who he/she looked like. She knew she was short and junk. With a minority complex it was not even difficult. That’s why she had to work harder than others, but she learned to live with it ever since she was able to understand things. So far, she seemed to be doing pretty well because she was still alive. And that was the most important thing for her right now.

That's why the question surprised me, perhaps. And because she didn't expect it. Reidun thought the other was just apologizing - which was already surprising as well - and then kept going. She didn't really know what to answer to the question. Not only because it was unexpected, but the subject itself was such that she didn’t know what to do with it. Last but not least, it was a very personal question. Even if she didn’t think anything that couldn’t be public.

That alone made her feel a little uncomfortable. Not to mention that it was a social interaction that was still hard for her. Especially against a person she doesn’t even know. She had no idea who this man might be. Or why he talked to her at all! But at least she knew what she wanted her to answer the question.

”You are strange! Starting with you apologizing, and now that’s the question. Who are you?” she asked.

For now, she didn't really want to answer the question, what she got. If she gets an order, she’ll, but not anyway. She nodded her head slightly to watch the man as to whether he was answering that question or not.

​

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Location: Varl Surface | Bonfire, Not Yet Started
Draels Interacting with: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir
Tags: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Krarolk T'manu | Gredak Tenebris | Primarch Drek'ma | Osam |

It was odd for him to blatantly ask others of their thoughts. In truth, he knew most of them didn't care for thinking and cared for action. The Little Girl, she was a little different as Sylok felt the twinge of disparity in her voice. She had called him strange, something that was all too well forthcoming. He wasn't the primitive base of his original genome, the calculations that ran through his mind tried to correct the imposing personal question, he could see she was shy. Ironically, Sylok rarely discussed anything with anyone, unless it was other scientists. Still, the fact she even responded in kind made him slightly smile, which was hard to tell by the razor, sharp teeth that continued to hang over and above his lips. His arm stretched outward, hoping that the gesture wouldn't catch the young zealot off guard. Much like his words, he tried to hold himself to a higher standard when it came to interaction. The study of many other worlds brought him sophistication, something many Draels lacked. He took pride in it, sometimes murmuring under his breath at how primitive most of them handled themselves. Regardless, he offered his hand to Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir his eyes locking with hers.

"Right, our people tend to lack manners. I've come to adopt other societal standards during my travels. I'm a scientist, I offer you my hand as a gesture of greeting." Sylok's voice held the same hiss-like tone. "And, yes quite strange indeed."

He chose to ignore the awkward question he presented from before. He wasn't used to socializing with his own, his studious mind was used in negotiations at times, where much of his speech applied heavily in favor of their people. The Draelvasier were the only race that matter though. While it was a difficult life, curiosity of other existences happened to open his mind to other factors in the galaxy. Just because he envied many of the stronger brutes among his clan, didn't mean he hated them. Just because he was angry, not only at himself, but the millions that followed in tow with the broken system of civilization. Didn't mean he hated his life, in fact it gave him purpose. The reliance of technology that emerged throughout the worlds beyond, it was a disease. One that Sylok and many of the other Draelvasier wanted cleansed from the universe entirely. In time it would happen and he hoped in time, the others would understand why he studied the inconsistent stain of corruption from world to world. He knew they needed to be healed in a different way, snuffed out and bled dry. All so they could see the raw legitimacy of the superior species that demanded a re-start that the universe yearned for.

Again, in time it would all come to fruition. In time, there would be more death and life. In time, it would be only Draelvasier.
​

Template Made By: Annasari​

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Rite of Ending
Tags: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Sylok'Vanari | Krarolk T'manu | Tathra Khaeus |
Post: 4

The Primarch overhead the Commander, he wished to be of assistance. The unblinking gaze shifted from the group of Brutes and Zealots to the Commander. Drek'ma did not have much in the ways of specific directions or commands. But those who felt lost, were often made to find a way. That was what Drek'ma felt across the surface of Varl, a loss of ones self in many Drael. An unnerving feeling and not one isolated to the new-borns. Old hands, the oldest. There was such a fragility to strength, its life and death held by a thin wire. A beautiful thing, but a terrible thing to be plagued by.

All around them the ceremony was beginning to be prepared. All around them, various Sraelvun and Aeravalin of different ranks prepared for the Rite of Ending. Divisions around the sarcophagus were set, two large rows for the Brutes of the 10th Regiment, they were to perform a Haka. Another row for those who would organise the various divisions, and a fourth row for the Zealots who had served under her, Tathra and himself.

"The Chieftain will be here soon. Make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be, Commander." With that the Primarch turned away and headed back up the steps to where he, was supposed to be. Soon the Zealots under her command would flock to him and the ceremony would begin when the Chieftain arrived.

 

[Osam]

Post 3
Objective: Consolidate

There was a certain degree of maintenance that needed to be conducted on any equipment post-combat. Having come to some terms with his own position in the hierarchy around himself, and having quelled the raging thoughts bursting through his head, the Risen-Srael now took to performing these duties. He inspected the Spiker rifle that he had been issued long ago when he had first been introduced to warfare, guaranteeing that it was not jammed, or that it had begun to corrode from the frequent usage. It was a sturdy tool, despite its mass-production, and he felt confident that it would almost certainly outlive him.

After the Rifle had been inspected and appropriate cleaning had been applied to it, he shifted his attention to the armor which he had last worn. There was sand caught in a number of irritating crevices within the equipment, and he found himself sitting for several minutes, digging out every molecule of the aggressive sediment. What they said about it getting everywhere was really true. It wouldn't do to have it weighing him down in battle, though, and he didn't want to imagine being distracted by a tiny irritant and losing his life because of its presence.

It was quiet work, gentle work that was not nearly so glorified as so many of the activities of the Draelvasier, but vital nonetheless. A broken rifle could not strike down an enemy, and fractured armor would only end in death.

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Reidun Amersis
The Little Girl, Zealot minor​

Location: Varl
Objective: OBJECTIVE II – Rite of Ending
Equipment: 2x Barad kukri | Barad Spike Rifle | Barad Special Operations Armour
Tag(s): Sylok'Vanari

Reidun really didn't understand the other, it was weird to her. Somehow distant, an outsider maybe. When the man held out his hand, which, of course, the girl did not recognize, she instinctively jumped back and her body tensed, ready to jump for any fight, began to snarl, showing her teeth to make her look even more dangerous. However, the attack did not occur. She looked at the outstretched hand a little confused, not really understanding what the other wanted. Then she looked up at the man.

”And what to do with it? To smell, to bite?” she asked. ”The outsiders, the other species are weak compared to us! Why do you take over the customs of peoples waiting to be subjugated? Are you researching their weaknesses?”

She couldn't have imagined anything else, but she must have thought the other was even stranger after that. If Sylok's goal was to confuse the girl even more, he did it completely. She was still looking at the man's hand and his face. However, she abandoned the offensive position and stepped closer to the other again. He was a scientist, maybe he was still studying her? Is that why he would have spoken to her?

”Are you talking to me just because you're wondering why I'm so small? Why am I different?” she asked angrily.

Another thought she just thought, though there was no confirmation of it. That is, she didn’t really know any other idea as to why anyone would want to get to know her. That’s why she didn’t have much chance for that dance either, because she wasn’t attractive, and who would want an offspring with a scrapped someone? Anyone say anything, Reidun's life was not the easiest. At least that's how the young girl saw her own life.

​

 

[Galak]

Post: Ten
Objective: Consolidate | Pavium POV
Tags: N/A

"Well met, Elite T'manu. " Galak recognised him quickly, it paid to have some recollection of the troops that fought under you.

That included Elite operatives, especially ones as infamous as this particular Zealot. Galak settled, exchanging wits and laughs with the others. Though he couldn't not help but wonder why the Zealot lingered if he were to say nothing more. But, he chose not to draw any particular attention to it. Galak reached over the table, slapping the pauldron of one of Major Grosck. Every time he heard or thought of that name, he thought of the heretic that tarnished it, he thought of the slime that's skull sat as a trophy in the Chieftain's private quarters on Draemidus Prime. He thought of the betrayal told of Eshan, how they'd achieved their goals but... at a cost.

"Grosck, go get us some refills here." The Brute Major reluctantly rose from his seat, taking the tray of large mugs from the table and toward the refill kiosk. Galak watched him leave, before being thumped on the shoulder by the Minor beside him.

"Hmm..?" Galak leaned on his wrists, thumbs encircling each other out of boredom as he turned to the Brute Minor. The Brute thrust his head back, gesturing to the table behind them. They were snickering, eyes on Major Grosck. No doubt sharing gossip and idle talk. Galak did not pretend to be unaware, turning around fully as he rested his arm on the side of the seat.

"If you have something to say, why don't you say it out loud." The Brutes on the other side seemed startled, whether it was because they were confronted or because of who was confronting them he couldn't say.

"Emissary, we didn't know he was w-"

"Does that matter?" Galak didn't wait for an answer, turning away only to be engaged by the Zealot once more.

Galak looked to the others, gesturing for them to shuffle round the circular seating.

"Join us Krarolk, that's an order..!" The Brute spoke with a joyful tone, the others chuckling amongst themselves.

 

[Vertask]

Objective: Consolidation
Post: One

Being ready for battle at a moments notice, keeping the senses and skills sharp at all times. A hunter was always prepared. Vertask would not show an ounce of weakness. She would be ready and prepared. Friendly spars were good. A way of proving oneself without too much disgrace if one was to lose.
She made a small ring. Moving and shadow sparing, two blades dancing in the light.
They were sharp, all her weapons were prepared, sharp and clean. Now it was just for her skills. To train, to improve. To always be ready.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

POST: FIVE
OBJECTIVE: CONSOLIDATE (Krarolk/Abvor) / RITE OF ENDING (Commander)
BYRN IN VICINITY: Galak (Krarolk) | Vertask (Abvor)

Krarolk was taken aback by the Emissary's invitation.
​

Normally, the Zealot Elite was not a very social individual. Initially, his reasoning was that he had considerable responsibility as an Elite. In order to continue to deserve the esteemed title, he would have to put all his energy into maximizing his physical and mental potential. Later on, his reason for avoiding casual socializing changed. As a talented warrior who was frequently thrown into special operations without much support, death hounded Krarolk mercilessly. If he were to die, he would not want others to waste resources that could be used for the war machine in honoring his corpse. It would be better to have the Zealot Elite leave the land of the living with minimal fanfare to maintain the efficiency of the Byrn'adul war machine.

But now, talking to an individual with such energy and genuine happiness, he felt those excuses begin to crumble around him.

"I will." replied Krarolk, regaining his composure. "I will."

"Do any of you have a spare drink?" asked the Elite, approaching the group that the Emissary had been interacting with.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

"Understood." replied the Zealot Commander to the Primarch.

Without any further hesitation, the Commander departed, walking towards the various seating rows set up for the ritual. Already, dozens of Byrn of various builds and designations were beginning to take their positions. Aeravalin, Baeudrin, and Sraelvun alike had all come together for this day, united in their mourning. While the divisions between different groups lead to occasional quarrels such as those between the Brutes and Zealots, today it seemed as if there was much less strife.

It relieved the Commander.

____________________________________________________________________

Abvor was unbelievably bored.

He did not mean to disrespect the fallen Zealot Commander, but the Elite had to admit that the long preparation time did not put him at ease. With Elite Krarolk and their Commander both elsewhere and unreachable, he had no one in his immediate vicinity to talk with. Not wanting to stand at attention for any longer, Abvor left his post. If the ritual were to begin, he likely could run fast enough to return to his position before he could be caught tardy.

The bulky Baeudrin Zealot Elite strode confidently down the rocky field, searching for entertainment. As he veered around a large rock, he found exactly what he was looking for. A Byrn'adul of feminine appearance in full battle gear sparred with the air in front of her, dual blades polished and gleaming. Abvor approached, his lust for combat beginning to rise up within him.

"Would you like a sparring partner?" asked Abvor to the Byrn in front of him, his excitement barely concealed.

 

[Vertask]

Abvor was unbelievably bored.

He did not mean to disrespect the fallen Zealot Commander, but the Elite had to admit that the long preparation time did not put him at ease. With Elite Krarolk and their Commander both elsewhere and unreachable, he had no one in his immediate vicinity to talk with. Not wanting to stand at attention for any longer, Abvor left his post. If the ritual were to begin, he likely could run fast enough to return to his position before he could be caught tardy.

The bulky Baeudrin Zealot Elite strode confidently down the rocky field, searching for entertainment. As he veered around a large rock, he found exactly what he was looking for. A Byrn'adul of feminine appearance in full battle gear sparred with the air in front of her, dual blades polished and gleaming. Abvor approached, his lust for combat beginning to rise up within him.

"Would you like a sparring partner?" asked Abvor to the Byrn in front of him, his excitement barely concealed.

Vertask turned at the sound of another approaching her. Keeping up her dance as she spoted a Baeudrin Elite making there way towards her. The female moving with speed and precision, her deadly dance with the blade spinning quickly. She continued to face the elite as he moved towards her, getting faster. Excitment, battle lust, she could smell it in him.
Mandibles extending in what equated to a smile. She could taste his excitement.
"Of course. Practice is better when you have one to train against." Soft clicking as she moved away from the edge of her makeshift arena, saluting with her blade. "Especially with an opponent as fine as yourself."