Revan Part II- Cont., the storm on Nirm has.... Options

[Lord Revan]

The Archives have been updated, just some info on psychic focus and magnitude (explaination of psychic powers).
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He stopped to evaluate the progress of his craftsmanship. Revan had completed his helmet, the cuirass, pauldrons, and gauntlets of his new armor in this short time.

The helmet remained largely unchanged, its visor covered slightly less area though, but Revan was confident he could fight just as well with narrowed vision.
His cuirass was thicker all around than his former one. The parts of his torso that needed to move without restraint were protected by overlapping segments of a refined sapphire-like substance. A chunk of cobalt focusing crystal lay above where the wearer’s sternum would be.

The pauldrons resembled those of Dunmer chitin. Two small crystal fragments were embedded in identical slots that Revan had carved into them.
Another pass-over from his old armor was the gauntlet design, with a few exceptions. Like the pauldrons, both gauntlets had common focusing crystals integrated. Revan had lost his energy blades in the explosion; he hoped learn from that lesson and utilize the High Naryyn technique. I am half High Naryyn after all… He thought dryly.

The completed pieces lay neatly arranged on the floor beside him. Now that he’d stopped, Revan realized that he had not eaten in..... quite awhile.
“So, this is where you’ve been.” Rhys said as she sat down next to him.

Revan set down the yet-to-be-finished greaves. “I apologize for leaving you in bed, but I needed to do something constructive and you needed the rest.”

She glared at him theatrically, “And you don’t?” Striking him playfully in the chest, Rhys teased. “Who’s braver? The people in fancy armor or those that fight without it?”

“Don’t tempt me to prove you wrong, Rhys.” Revan replied with a smile on his face. “Or you might just run out of luck.”

Her own face adorned by the same expression. “You couldn’t touch me, let alone beat me in a fight.”
“Is that a challenge?” He asked as he stood up. “Because, I’ll take you up on that..... after I get something to eat.”

Rhys got up as well, “I won’t go easy on you just because you happen to be my friend, Ahtre’Mehrah.”

Rhys....

The Hvy. Destroyer Emphatic Judgment sat just outside the borders of Sadrith Mora. The capital-class ship dwarfed the Telvaani town beside it.

Rhys’ eyes wandered a bit, having only been to House Telvaani’s domain briefly before now, their distinct traits were still new to her.
Revan paid more attention to the sky and its occupants. Several frigates, destroyers and High Naryyn missile frigates patrolled the nearby airspace.

A small squad of interceptors was visible, swooping low over the sea in close formation. “Since you seem to know this place better, perhaps you should lead."
"Fair enough, though I believe non-Telvaani still require Hospitality Papers..."

"We're just two exceptions, that along with a couple dozen more won't drive some Telvaani lord nuts." She joked lightly.
"Believe me, some Telvaani are nuts to begin with. But that doesn't make them less interesting." Revan said in a tone that told he knew all too well.

The two noticed a gathering of Virtarak around a certain localation: the Sadrith Mora Slave Market. While being some distance from the gathering, Rhys could feel the mood. She promptly closed herself from the powerful emotions.

Revan extended his mental probe, taking in every element of the scene. "This isn't good." He muttured, before marching toward the spectacle.
Rhys followed, knowing what her companion meant. The Virtarak crowd was not armed, which was good, but they were displaying their views on the trade of "inferior races." The mob would advance, leap back in unison, and then advance further, all the while hissing threatening at the Telvaani guards.

As Revan approached the flock from behind, several broke off rapidly to scoop up their discarded weapons. Seeing this, he lashed out, causing said weapons to launch into the air. The Virtarak skidded to a halt, mid-sprint, making ready to leap after the flying rifles.

Rhys didn't want this to become violent anymore than Revan did. She projected her thoughts to the avian aliens. "Fighting isn't going to do any good; it will only give us more enemies when we need only one!"

The mob came to an abrupt halt in their cycle, their heads scanned the area for the speaker. When they noticed the two of them, one thought became very apparent. "This can not continue, but for now we shall stand down in our defense, Naryyn."

All Virtarak cleared out, leaving the only occupants as the Telvaani guards and the two Naryyn. The former appeared to be confused as to the sudden withdrawl. As Rhys and Revan walked past them to Wolverine Hall, Revan said to one of the guards. "A word of warning: don't be around here for the next few weeks; if you want not to be the target of the Virtaraks' fury."

The guards said nothing, so both moved on. "Do you think the Virtarak really will resort to violence?"
"Anything is possible," he replied. "We can only read the scroll, not rewrite it."

Both were silent until, Rhys muttured. "Some scuttle and saltrice would be really good right now."
Revan nodded, "Same here. Hopefully, there will be a buffet and no pay required..... otherwise we could just make some food go missing."

[Lord Revan]

Lord Arastus

Aboard the Infinite Sojourn, the ancient Naryyn who commanded its crew lowered his command platform. As it leveled with the floor, he strode purposely strode to the psychic resonator on the bridge.

After listening to the resonator for some time, Arastus had made his decision. Focusing on the resonator, the Yutak-Norak Lord broadcasted his verdict.
Telepathic “speech” on this scale was not accurate, when so many minds were touched it was neither words, nor any form of language-based message sent out.

Through the network of ship-based resonators, Arastus could feel the thousands of his people, not vividly, but as only could be described as the churning depths of an ocean.
In eastern Vvardenfell, Iso Naryyn, who had not already done so, returned to their vessels. Warships like the Emphatic Judgment lifted off and headed west, to regroup with the rest of the armada over the Bitter Coast.

Lord Arastus withdrew from the psychic resonator, from the conglomerate Iso Naryyn group mind, back to himself, to the Infinite Sojourn.
The sensation of being a part of the grand consciousness as unyielding and immense as the largest ocean was unparallel. While those unfortunate enough to never experience it found the prospect uncomfortably alien, it was the most pure thing in all existance.

Arastus dispelled his revelry and returned his focus to the present. This war must come to a swift end, for our people and the sentients of this pristine world.
With the vessel at station-keeping, most of the bridge crew were away from their stations, either taking the time to rest or speak with one another.

As his forces gathered around the coast, Arastus returned to his command platform. The long-range holographic communications array was the only way of communicating with the half-kin short of direct speech.
The lord reflected on how divided the Naryyn had become, while their diversity was possibly a blessing, their different paths of growth proved problematic to co-operating.

Arastus stood on the device’s circular pedestal, and the array hummed as it warmed up. A lightning-blue light winked on to show a connection had been established, but Arastus was forced to wait a full three minutes before the projector opposite of him came to life.
Facing him was the young High Naryyn Flt. Commander Xaries; Arastus noted that his counterpart seemed weary. “Commander, my kin are nearly ready to begin pushing forward to Eastern Skyrim. How are yours faring?”

Xaries replied, his voice confirming the drain Arastus had suspected. “We managed to push back the Plys’Iea attack force, at first it couldn’t have been described as a serious effort..... until our recon patrols spotted the wreckage of several Plys’Iea vessels on the Inner Sea.”
“We can gather that Admiral Satith decided to hit them in the flanks while they had their sights on us.” Arastus could make out the sighs of exhaustion on Xaries.

“Commander, it will be in your best interest to rest.” The Iso Naryyn Lord advised, adding a telepathic “Now.”

Xaries straightened, his fatigue gone for the moment. “We might have pushed back the Plys’Iea, but I refuse to rest so soon after an incursion of that magnitude.”
Partly, Arastus admired the younger leader’s audacity, despite how close he was to collapsing from being overworked. He said in a firm and commanding tone. “Fleet Commander Xaries of the Imperial Navy, as a Lord of the Yutak-Norak and representative of the Iso Naryyn Matriarchs, I am ordering you to rest so you and your troops will be ready to move forward when the time comes!”

The High Naryyn stood for a moment before bowing his head, as much to illustrate his resignation and to hide the fact that all of his exhaustion was showing again.
“Very well, my lord Arastus.” With that the holographic array shutdown, and Arastus stepped off of his respective panel. He sighed wearily, he’d given up defending Vvardenfell, now the combined fleet would wait two days to prepare, and then they would all push westward, to Skyrim, to the Plys’Iea, hopefully end this before more lives could be claimed by the struggle.

From what Arastus had heard of the Imperial Admiral Satith, the aggressive move against the enemy would provoke a similar push from the High Naryyn forces.
Not true co-operation, but it’s a step in the right direction from merciless genocide and xenophobia. The Lord mused, once again approaching the psychic resonator.

Revan

Navigating the dark (by non-Iso Naryyn standards) labyrinth of corridors with purpose, Revan felt the rising anticipation of his brethren aboard the Emphatic Judgment and the other vessels nearby, as well as his own.

Silently, Rhys remained by his side, despite his jaunty pace. “You’re all looking forward to this,” She muttered dryly.
“Don’t talk like you aren’t either, Rhys.” Revan replied, giving her an amused look.

“Are you deluding yourself by thinking the ship’s Rook will appreciate two shadows being present on the bridge?” Rhys asked rhetorically.

He slowed down slightly, “Frankly, we don’t have a rank, but you have a point, but we can be considered as Shades and then we’re about even with the Rook.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kyle; I’m not sure if I should be disturbed or hopelessly charmed.”

“Maybe,” Revan said quietly, realizing that he was thinking like Thane. He stopped, “I suppose a bit of him rubbed off on me, I’ll have to be more aware of that.”
Rhys replied slyly, her crimson eyes shining, “Good, because if you did turn into the lieutenant, I’d have to consider marking you as a bitter loss, Revan. But you still have enough sense not to be a hopeless pig, that’s good enough, I guess.”

A full smile spread across his face, “Lucky me.”
Rhys’ smile mirrored his own, “You’d better believe it.” She took a step back and turned to walk back the way they’d come. “Let’s meet back with Darhun’s family in an hour, I’ve got things I’d like to do in the meantime.”

As he, too, went his own way, back to the armory to finish his armor, Revan wondered where he’d be if he hadn’t met Rhys under Dagoth Ur, among the Corprus monsters and lava.

Pell's Gate

In spite of the bloodshed and hatred and fear of many on this world, there were places that were too isolated to truly stay up-to-date on the happenings of all of Tamriel.

While the village of Pell’s Gate, behind the defensive buffer zone of the High Naryyn Imperial Navy, knew of the war, they knew not the horrors that were experienced by those caught unawares by the Plys’Iea.
To them, the faster the war was over the better, but they were also confident that the alien force that was defending them from one of the others could hold their thin stretch of territory.

No, never did they even think that the war could touch them...... If only they’d know that it wouldn’t lash out as a mammoth alien warship, or battalion of alien marines or pillagers.

Schlera Sestius set down her mug for a final time; she failed to suppress a yawn. “We all knew we were in for hard times, but this new war is absolutely not in the same league as the Oblivion Crisis.”

Candice Corgine yawned as well, taking Schlera’s mug and wiping it off. “You have a point, why these aliens or whatever they are had to choose Nirm to have their war in is beyond me. They could give the Deadra a time they’ll never forget in their bloody divine existance.”

The Imperial hunter shook her head, “I have to get up next morning to go hunting, and we can get back to this later, after our beauty-sleep.” With that, Schlera turned and walked back to her cabin.

Candice nodded mutely, setting the mugs up on their shelf. Maybe I should have a little ale myself, just to help get some sle-

She stopped when she heard this low growling somewhere upstairs. “I should probably let the dog out, it’s so high- main-“

Then an answering growl began, deeper, colder than that of the large dog the publican kept. Candice slowly scaled the stairs to the private room she kept that stray that had shown up on her tavern’s doorstep a couple of months ago.
Suddenly, when she was halfway up the stairs, the growling stopped. Corgine rushed the remaining distance and threw open the door.

Her hand went to her mouth; Lily was lying on the floor facing her. But the dog didn’t raise her head to stare at her new master, nor did she pant, or her tongue flop out of her mouth.
Lily was lifelessly still, her eyes completely absent of light. “By the Nine Divines!” Something shoved her into the room, and slammed the door behind her.

Candice had heard nothing come up behind her, and the panic of being locked in a room combined with the shock of Lily suddenly dying made her hysterical.
The woman beat on the door for twenty minutes, sobbing uncontrollably, her mind so clouded that she couldn’t form any thoughts other than the animal instinct to escape to the comfort of the others.

Then she was knocked back, and the door slid open. Candice stared at the empty space, and then at the monstrous being that appeared there.
Candice Corgine, publican of the Sleeping Mare, villager of Pell’s Gate, died, weeping beside her dead dog.

Zarauhn

As daylight appeared on the horizon, the psionist opened his eyes for the first time that night. Several large shapes approached the village from the nearby Aylied Ruin of Vindesel. Zarauhn dropped down from the roof of the Sleeping Mare. His fellow Plys'Iea gazed up at the former villagers of this place, hung from a simple rope from either their wrists or ankles.

The corpses were all stripped of clothing and much of their flesh, a table from the inn had the publican's dog on a platter. His brothers and sisters nodded in recognition, the psionist felt fullfilled. While cloaked in invisibility, he'd slaughtered the villagers with either his claws and fangs or his new abilities.
As his brethren gorged themselves on the meal laid out before them, he approached the kneeling form of the High Naryyn, Kartah. Anyone who looked upon the sergeant could recognize that she had been detained in unfavorable conditions.

Zarauhn had to confess, he'd rather enjoyed his experience with the female marine. Over the past few days, he'd delved into her psyche and her body. Not only could he match a High Naryyn psionist, but Kartah's experiences with the two Iso Naryyn, Revan and Rhys, allowed him to learn some common Iso Naryyn traits as well.
This fact distinguished him from the other Ply'Iea psionists, he had been able to walk past the publican and kill every other villager without them being aware of his presense until it was too late for them. Only the dog, whose sense of smell, not sight, had allowed it to detect him, but it had been the first to die.

He waited for a moment, towering over Kartah, but the Naryyn did not attempt to rise or lash out at him. Finally, he lifted her up himself, telekinetically. The sergeant looked up enough to stare into his eyes, for she was levitated to eye-level.
Perhaps the sergeant was going to spit in his face, or resist him in some way, but before Zarauhn could find out, she lapsed into onconsciousness. As Kartah went out, he lost interest in her, and simply allowed her body to crumple to the dirt.

Ignoring her, ingnoring his kin and the village behind him, he let loose a shriek of challenge at the world, his mind carrying the message farther than he could project his voice. When he was finished, Zarauhn thought to himself. Now my time has come, we will return to the battle group, and confront the loathsome Naryyn for this planet, and then...... This place and all upon its surface shall be undone.