The Doomguy
New member
Conrad had always been the most bloodthirsty of all the Valtraxians. Long before the Valtraxians and the Qaghans waged war the Great Khan had built a file on Conrad. His list of crimes against various races all the way from genocide to other more disturbing instances were miles long. To see him smile upon being given an order was unsettling to anyone who had any semblance of sanity left.
Unless fear gripped the hearts of those unwilling to speak up against him. The only one who had the bravery to do so had been Anissa, albeit, not verbally. She didn’t need to speak to show her disgust. It had been in the way her facial features contorted into almost a sneer. Conrad was wise not to confront her on it, not only because they stood before the Khan, but because Anissa had been the wife of the Grand Regent.
Yes, despite all the power and might that Conrad claimed to wield, the Grand Regent put him to shame. Though he did not outweigh him in sheer size or bulk, Vaelin outclassed Conrad tenfold. Even so, not even Vaelin was the strongest of the Valtraxians, that title belonged to Kyaro. Had he been just a bit more like Vaelin he would be the shining example of what a Valtraxian should be. Unfortunately for the Khan, Kyaro’s attitude, lack of devotion, and unwillingness to truly dedicate himself to something larger than himself made him difficult to work with.
That did not mean he failed to show results. Proven by the fact that he stepped into the Court of the Great Khan dragging a woman behind him. Apparently it had been the same one who was circling Valtrax in a shuttle. Muteki smelled her before he even caught the sight of her, yet when he did, he felt a semblance of pity. The same kind one might feel toward a stray animal that had been beaten viciously and laid within an inch of its life.
She did not pose any type of a threat, nor did she seem aligned to any organization that stood opposed to His Imperium. Instead, she looked exhausted, weakened from a long journey. She wore the rags of a prisoner and her wrist was bruised by the chains that had bound her for quite some time. Whoever held her did not want her gone, she must have escaped on her own accord, showing some semblance of cunning.
His pseudo-self observed the girl with gleaming eyes. There were an endless amount of possibilities in what he was able to do with her. Simplest and easiest of all had been to slay her, absorb her soul, then toss her lifeless corpse into the void to drift for eternity. He could also flay her flesh after nailing her to the walls of His Court and torture her until she confessed to all she knew. As he observed the lines in her flesh, the bruises that had formed on her flesh, something else came to mind.
The Khan knelt down beside her and placed his large hand on her back. His large form loomed over her, a tall tower amidst the storm, casting her in shadow. Magic drew into his palms, imbuing her flesh with a symbol, His Symbol. It formed on her skin like a tattoo and became one with her body, mind, and spirit. He slowly pulled his hand away, rose to his feet, then took a few steps back.
It is then the woman was going to be brought back to consciousness. In her veins a flood of power filled her and brought her back to her prime. Though it was a strength that was not her own. It was foreign, taboo, like something had to have been sacrificed in order to grant it to her. That is because it was, as the Great Khan had expelled from him the soul of a Yardratian, one of the many that he had slaughtered and absorbed into himself.
It was a gift.
Only when she stood before him properly was he then going to wave his hand. Not only to change her clothes, but that of the Valtraxians as well, adorning the latter in the garbs suited for the coming conquest. As for the woman, she would watch as the rags she wore were replaced with something that better suited her, akin to the same clothing style that the Hera would wear. An attempt to make her more comfortable as she did not seem like the regal type.
It is difficult to believe that the Great Khan had any potential to be forthright when stating those words. Especially when surrounding him and his Court had been an endless series of would-be corpses. Kept alive wholly by magic as their flesh was flayed and lungs removed from their chest. Just maybe, however, he had been telling her the truth. After all, what had been to stop him from making her just another display as well, nailed to the walls to be tortured for all eternity.
