Post by Khaosraptor on Jun 2, 2021 13:59:46 GMT
Kevaeris felt a shock of stress as she proceeded down the pearly white hallway, her lower hands almost nervously clutched behind her back. Her armour had been given a fresh coat of paint from the Kahris aboard her ship, bringing the stark contrast of black and gold to the forefront as she traversed this alabaster passage. Kevaeris stopped, dragging her metallic claws along her armoured thighs as she calmed her nerves. Her segmented warhelm retreated back into her collar, allowing her a momentary relief from its claustrophobic interior. She shook her head, jostling her braids from their bun as they fell across her armour, as she attempted to free herself from the trepidation of the events to come.
The Emperor himself had summoned her, as if she was no more than a beast of war to be recalled. An action that, while perfectly harmless in its function, had not been done since the execution of Varrian J’arr. She was confident in her abilities as a warrior, but she posed no threat to the Emperor, nor his personal KingsChampion, Owex Tsu’tan. If they intended to execute her for her failure during the Zentheran conflicts, she would not die easily.
Honour called her forth however, unable to disobey the summons of those she swore her life to protecting, and she continued down the passageway.
The throne room had no purpose within the KingsPalace save for the ceremonial, and its use was not done lightly. As Kevaeris passed its great threshold, she bowed her head in respect to those within, and all those who had come before. To be allowed to gaze upon the KingsThrone was an action not taken or given lightly, as it was by the right of blood that it had been earned. Kevaeris herself had killed many in order to attain her position here, and she knew that those who had come before her had suffered just as greatly.
The four, bone-white columns that decorated the octagonal room were marked with the names of Kings from ages past, and the spiralling pattern that swirled inwards towards the center were interwoven with the deeds of those of the Echotian race that had fought and died to preserve their species. The ASO conflicts… The Dren’Ovak wars… The Systems and the Voleant crusades, all preserved here to honour the Throne at the center of the great chamber.
Owex Tsu’tan stood to the right of the Throne, his onyx armour making his impressive height feel even more imposing, and above him, staring down at Kevaeris from atop this most sacred Throne was Marian Thraxx, Emperor of the United Echotian Empire. He was clad in what was more a second skin than armour, adorned with angular patterns that pleased the eye, and golden plating that complimented the Echo’s impressive physique. Across his shoulders was a pelt of deep red, scaled, hide, and across his lap rested the Emperor’s legendary fraternal blades. A Warhelm covered his face, though this one, like all Emperor’s before, had been mounted with a jagged crown to signify his apex status.
Kevaeris did not dare meet his gaze, keeping her head in a deep bow of respect as she knelt before the awe-inspiring King of Kings. Her dark cloak fanned out behind her as she drew her sword, placing the masterly-crafted symbol of her position within the House of Kings before her, presenting herself to her Emperor in a show of vulnerability. This was not expected of her, of course, but the act of ‘showing your throat’ was a sign of great respect among Echotians of all walks. It did, however, leave her dangerously unarmed, and should this interaction go south, she would not have time to retrieve her weapon.
“”My Kings”, Kevaeris began, as was customary, “I have answered your summons.”
“Tempest Xull”, Owex answered, his voice deep and powerful like a raging storm, “You are welcomed before the King of Kings, though you may not rise.”
Kevaeris felt the catch in her throat and she swallowed instinctively as she stared at the sword laying before her. She was welcome, meaning she would not be killed, but it did not free her from punishment. The Emperor had different methods of disciplining a failing King, from mutilation, to flagellation, to any number of humiliating ends worse than death. For a moment, she had wished for death instead.
Her voice was strong and did not waver, not before her Emperor.
“I am yours to command, my Kings.”
Kevaeris could not see Marian, but her keen hearing identified the tell-tale clack of metal claws on stone, too light to be from Owex’s mighty footfalls. She could hear him descend the throne, hear the cloak about his shoulders slide effortlessly across its polished surfaces, and stop merely meters from her. She could feel his gaze upon her, the sheer weight of his movements causing her to mentally brace for whatever lay ahead.
Kevaeris felt a sudden hand on her shoulder, cursing herself as she flinched reflexively. Her first instinct was to fight-- to take this Echo with her bare hands, to claw out his eyes and defend herself, but was stopped by a sound. Almost a purr, the soothing series of clicks met Kevaeris’s ears with friendly greetings. This was not the admonishing blow she had expected, and she felt her claws pull free of their fists as they relaxed slightly.
“Kevaeris’Kon”, Marian spoke quietly, like a juvenile might console a hatchling,
“There is no need for fear here, Sister. Gone are the old ways of our father, now you kneel before me as a friend. Rise and reclaim your weapon, we have much to discuss.”
The world seemed to spin for a moment as Kevaeris reacted, standing on command and returning the blade to its sheathe. Her nerves still buzzed with violent energy, but the lack of accompanying pain had thrown her from her position and back into her pre-tempest days as a juvenile. A sudden waft of the Ashex fields filled her senses as she lingered on the memories before she was snapped back to the present. Marian’s helm had retracted, and his familiar face sent a feeling of relaxation. Truly she had only momentarily felt this way upon the Bo’Shyen homeworld, and only passingly in the presence of her own species. Comfort and companionship was reserved for House Valour, not Tempest.
Marian spoke again before Kevaeris could collect herself.
“I apologize for the summons, Kevaeris, but unfortunately some traditions are far more formal than need be. You are not here to be punished for your actions, you are here to atone for them.”
Kevaeris, feeling suddenly emboldened by the words, spoke out.
“My King--”
“Please, Kev, we do not need to stand on ceremony here. This is just a conversation between you and I, nothing more.”
Marian gave a nod and a gesture to Owex, who returned the motion and stepped down into the hall to give them privacy.
“You may speak freely.”
Kevaeris felt a twinge of shame run through her body, like she was getting away with something. She looked back towards the hallway and then back at her Emperor.
“You must forgive me, I was not expecting anything of this nature. Long have our actions marked us for death or glory. I was sure my fate would be forged in this chamber.”
Marian took a second to listen to Kevaeris, before nodding in agreement.
“Not long ago, there might have been an Emperor who would have seen to those conceptions. The Betrayer was as unforgiving as he was naive. I do not intend to make the same mistakes, and will instead seek to grow the House of Kings into the brotherhood I cherished for many years. Owex believes that such trusts are beyond such repair, but even the most tarnished blade can be melted down and made anew. Perhaps the first step to true healing is to forgive the old sins.”
As he spoke, Marian reached down to a pouch hidden among the folds of his cloak to reveal a pendant belonging to the House of Scars wrapped in loose cloth.
“Perhaps there are many steps to ensuring our triumph in this new galaxy. As for you, my dear Kevaeris, I have indeed arrived at a task worthy of your continued service to our House.”
Kevaeris felt a surge of pride, one she had not felt since she rose to the rank of King.
“Anything, El’Vahl’Vor. You have my sword and my services.”
“You will make amends with those you have wronged, I trust you will discover a way to forge yourself a new face among those we call potential allies.”
Marian held out the medallion of the House of Scars for Kevaeris to take, placing a hand gently on top of hers as she clasped it in her claws.
“And you will bring our brothers home.”
A smile crept across her face and Kevaeris looked down at the pendant, the surge she felt welled ever more intensely as she looked back to Marian.
“We will be whole once more, El’Vahl. The House of Kings will be whole once again.”
The Emperor himself had summoned her, as if she was no more than a beast of war to be recalled. An action that, while perfectly harmless in its function, had not been done since the execution of Varrian J’arr. She was confident in her abilities as a warrior, but she posed no threat to the Emperor, nor his personal KingsChampion, Owex Tsu’tan. If they intended to execute her for her failure during the Zentheran conflicts, she would not die easily.
Honour called her forth however, unable to disobey the summons of those she swore her life to protecting, and she continued down the passageway.
The throne room had no purpose within the KingsPalace save for the ceremonial, and its use was not done lightly. As Kevaeris passed its great threshold, she bowed her head in respect to those within, and all those who had come before. To be allowed to gaze upon the KingsThrone was an action not taken or given lightly, as it was by the right of blood that it had been earned. Kevaeris herself had killed many in order to attain her position here, and she knew that those who had come before her had suffered just as greatly.
The four, bone-white columns that decorated the octagonal room were marked with the names of Kings from ages past, and the spiralling pattern that swirled inwards towards the center were interwoven with the deeds of those of the Echotian race that had fought and died to preserve their species. The ASO conflicts… The Dren’Ovak wars… The Systems and the Voleant crusades, all preserved here to honour the Throne at the center of the great chamber.
Owex Tsu’tan stood to the right of the Throne, his onyx armour making his impressive height feel even more imposing, and above him, staring down at Kevaeris from atop this most sacred Throne was Marian Thraxx, Emperor of the United Echotian Empire. He was clad in what was more a second skin than armour, adorned with angular patterns that pleased the eye, and golden plating that complimented the Echo’s impressive physique. Across his shoulders was a pelt of deep red, scaled, hide, and across his lap rested the Emperor’s legendary fraternal blades. A Warhelm covered his face, though this one, like all Emperor’s before, had been mounted with a jagged crown to signify his apex status.
Kevaeris did not dare meet his gaze, keeping her head in a deep bow of respect as she knelt before the awe-inspiring King of Kings. Her dark cloak fanned out behind her as she drew her sword, placing the masterly-crafted symbol of her position within the House of Kings before her, presenting herself to her Emperor in a show of vulnerability. This was not expected of her, of course, but the act of ‘showing your throat’ was a sign of great respect among Echotians of all walks. It did, however, leave her dangerously unarmed, and should this interaction go south, she would not have time to retrieve her weapon.
“”My Kings”, Kevaeris began, as was customary, “I have answered your summons.”
“Tempest Xull”, Owex answered, his voice deep and powerful like a raging storm, “You are welcomed before the King of Kings, though you may not rise.”
Kevaeris felt the catch in her throat and she swallowed instinctively as she stared at the sword laying before her. She was welcome, meaning she would not be killed, but it did not free her from punishment. The Emperor had different methods of disciplining a failing King, from mutilation, to flagellation, to any number of humiliating ends worse than death. For a moment, she had wished for death instead.
Her voice was strong and did not waver, not before her Emperor.
“I am yours to command, my Kings.”
Kevaeris could not see Marian, but her keen hearing identified the tell-tale clack of metal claws on stone, too light to be from Owex’s mighty footfalls. She could hear him descend the throne, hear the cloak about his shoulders slide effortlessly across its polished surfaces, and stop merely meters from her. She could feel his gaze upon her, the sheer weight of his movements causing her to mentally brace for whatever lay ahead.
Kevaeris felt a sudden hand on her shoulder, cursing herself as she flinched reflexively. Her first instinct was to fight-- to take this Echo with her bare hands, to claw out his eyes and defend herself, but was stopped by a sound. Almost a purr, the soothing series of clicks met Kevaeris’s ears with friendly greetings. This was not the admonishing blow she had expected, and she felt her claws pull free of their fists as they relaxed slightly.
“Kevaeris’Kon”, Marian spoke quietly, like a juvenile might console a hatchling,
“There is no need for fear here, Sister. Gone are the old ways of our father, now you kneel before me as a friend. Rise and reclaim your weapon, we have much to discuss.”
The world seemed to spin for a moment as Kevaeris reacted, standing on command and returning the blade to its sheathe. Her nerves still buzzed with violent energy, but the lack of accompanying pain had thrown her from her position and back into her pre-tempest days as a juvenile. A sudden waft of the Ashex fields filled her senses as she lingered on the memories before she was snapped back to the present. Marian’s helm had retracted, and his familiar face sent a feeling of relaxation. Truly she had only momentarily felt this way upon the Bo’Shyen homeworld, and only passingly in the presence of her own species. Comfort and companionship was reserved for House Valour, not Tempest.
Marian spoke again before Kevaeris could collect herself.
“I apologize for the summons, Kevaeris, but unfortunately some traditions are far more formal than need be. You are not here to be punished for your actions, you are here to atone for them.”
Kevaeris, feeling suddenly emboldened by the words, spoke out.
“My King--”
“Please, Kev, we do not need to stand on ceremony here. This is just a conversation between you and I, nothing more.”
Marian gave a nod and a gesture to Owex, who returned the motion and stepped down into the hall to give them privacy.
“You may speak freely.”
Kevaeris felt a twinge of shame run through her body, like she was getting away with something. She looked back towards the hallway and then back at her Emperor.
“You must forgive me, I was not expecting anything of this nature. Long have our actions marked us for death or glory. I was sure my fate would be forged in this chamber.”
Marian took a second to listen to Kevaeris, before nodding in agreement.
“Not long ago, there might have been an Emperor who would have seen to those conceptions. The Betrayer was as unforgiving as he was naive. I do not intend to make the same mistakes, and will instead seek to grow the House of Kings into the brotherhood I cherished for many years. Owex believes that such trusts are beyond such repair, but even the most tarnished blade can be melted down and made anew. Perhaps the first step to true healing is to forgive the old sins.”
As he spoke, Marian reached down to a pouch hidden among the folds of his cloak to reveal a pendant belonging to the House of Scars wrapped in loose cloth.
“Perhaps there are many steps to ensuring our triumph in this new galaxy. As for you, my dear Kevaeris, I have indeed arrived at a task worthy of your continued service to our House.”
Kevaeris felt a surge of pride, one she had not felt since she rose to the rank of King.
“Anything, El’Vahl’Vor. You have my sword and my services.”
“You will make amends with those you have wronged, I trust you will discover a way to forge yourself a new face among those we call potential allies.”
Marian held out the medallion of the House of Scars for Kevaeris to take, placing a hand gently on top of hers as she clasped it in her claws.
“And you will bring our brothers home.”
A smile crept across her face and Kevaeris looked down at the pendant, the surge she felt welled ever more intensely as she looked back to Marian.
“We will be whole once more, El’Vahl. The House of Kings will be whole once again.”