Ruthless Galaxy - Embers

by **Whos** Sun Feb 23, 2014 8:54 pm

The rain had subsided, and for the first time in hours one could behold the muddy field clearly. Jorro'kil Infantry, their armor glistening in the early morning sun, slowly and solemnly moved about the ravaged battle site. Bodies of mutilated and decaying Karthla, barely recognizable even for their own grotesque form, littered the field. In some places they were piled high... and in both pits and on level ground Jorro'kil corpses lay, the scent of death lightly cloaked by the armor they wore. It was an awful, and for the time frequent sight. The evidence of this atrocity sickened some of the searchers, but those dulled to the sense of horror presented by the aftermath of such conflicts carried on, with a sense they had kept, the sense of hope, breaking through even the bleakest of times.

The position - held down in front of a mobile communications outpost - was attacked late after midnight by a horde of the monsters which the Jorro'kil one day hoped to exterminate. The field was in a plain, the particular area accompanied by an ambient group of trees.

The assault was a surprise, and the biologicly adaptable Karthla had managed to fool their equipment, an advantage which turned the heat-sensing device carried by the Jorro'kil into little more than a blind eye.

Pools of purple blood mixed with dirty rain water huddled together in areas where the Karthla had managed to overrun and overpower defensive positions.

In a shallow grave, laying half-covered in the mud next to its former owner, a journal held both a story and the key to the events of the battle.

by **Whos** Mon Feb 24, 2014 10:06 pm

A soldier approached the avian body laying twisted in the mud, and noticed a rectangular, dark grey shape partly obscured by the mud. He reached down, and grasping it in his four-fingered hand, shook off the dirty residue to the least of a satisfying point, and opened it. Inside was an inscription with the previous owner's name, and the date of the day the book came into ownership. The Jorro'kil glanced over a few of the pages and realized it was a journal. An excellent find, he quickly finished up the search for life among the dead of the field, and set himself at a brisk pace to reach the nearby Commander's tent.

Upon arrival, he greeted his superior with the customary salute and stiff dip of the beak. Once the initial report was finished, he hurriedly handed the Commander the book he had found among the corpses. The officer stared at it with interest, before returning his attention to the soldier and dismissing him. The next move wouldn't be until a few hours, time enough to read through the book, he thought. He, setting it at a square, almost black metal desk, lightly opened the cover. The inscription was smeared and he could only make out the first name. It was dated 10, 006. Last year. He turned the page, and set to reading.

by **Whos** Fri Feb 28, 2014 7:40 pm

A bloody smudge and specks of dirt littered the first page, which was, along with all other pages, of a smooth texture. This series of journals probably used paper from the coniferous Osol tree, a native plant from Irooscin; the owner was most likely from Irooscin as the Osols had proved to be a lesser cultivated type of tree on colony worlds.

The Commander, a Warrant Officer, read through the first page. It was dated on a halfweek. The handwriting was well formed and easily readable, thankfully.

"Hello, journal. Today, I finished my enlistment in the army, something I've wanted to do since I was quite young. My parents and relatives were all very pleased to hear of this, and we had a special dinner with some of my favorite foods, including a less common meat I happened to like very much. The Honor Cup had a special fragrance in it, I could tell, one my mother rarely bought or used. During the meal, I was asked by some of my family elders if all of the same protocols and processes they had gone through were still used, many of them were, such as the memorization of the slightly different time system the military uses, but a few abstract systems had been removed of what I knew, I told them. Most of them seemed genuinely interested but I wonder if one or two weren't just trying to pass the time.. I'm very excited for the next day, which is when I'll be moved for basic training, the officers I spoke with during my signing up seemed very enthusiastic about getting me quickly to training. I think they seemed so not just because of an officer's general zeal, but rather because of the war we're fighting. All the civilians hear is good news, but I wonder if there has been some bad news lately... I hope not, and yet also want to be able to help if anything has gone wrong.. I'll probably see soon enough."

The entry ended, and the Jorro'kil turned the page for the next one.

by **Whos** Tue Mar 11, 2014 11:30 pm

The Commander read on into the journal, as the entries recollected the soldier's time during basic training, his opinions and noteable experiences, and there crept forward, slowly, a concern within the pages, that something bad was happening within the soldier's family. Something wrong. Before the Commander could get any further into the book, a Minor Officer abruptly entered the tent, and, saluting, informed his superior of a new situation. Some of the infantry in the company occupying the surrounding area had recently acquired a new prisoner.

A Karthla soldier, wounded, but alive. The Warrant Officer averted his attention from the journal completely, and followed the Minor Officer outside to where the new prisoner was being held. A group of soldiers stood around a mess of dark purple, their weapons never moving off the target. As the Commander moved closer, granting him a better view of the prisoner, he was disgusted to find it lacking one of its legs, and a few fingers, still bleeding into the grass. The thing stared defiantly back at him, and it seemed to have a look that suggested it would happily kill the Jorro'kil given any chance at all. Fortunately, it had no chance.

"Can you talk?" The Commander asked it. There was nothing uttered from it, not even a growl. "It would be better for you to tell us anything you know.. we could make the rest of your life very uncomfortable, and it doesn't look like that's a very long time."

Still nothing. Annoyed, the Warrant Officer was about to turn away, when a raspy voice emitted from the wounded Karthla's mouth. "We.. have not.. have not..." It struggled to find the right words, being a simple creature in essence. "Have not.. any.. thing.. if we..." It couldn't go on, and the pain it was in started to become all-consuming. The Commander almost felt pity for it, yet he realized this and reminded himself the Karthla were nothing, nothing to deserve even pity. Only the defiant stare remained in the creature's eyes, before it breathed its last, and collapsed completely.

by **Whos** Fri Apr 11, 2014 7:34 pm

The Warrant Officer trudged back to his tent, dismayed that they seemed no closer to winning this battle than they had when the troops landed. They hadn't been helped by the Betaroid, as their allies were busy with their own battles, and the Zolan forces were already fighting across multiple planets with Free Absolute forces. The Warrant Officer, and the rest of his brethren in arms, had to face this alone.

One thing he had noticed, was that the Karthla, and indeed the entirety of Dominion forces, seemed almost surprised the Third Arm Confederacy were standing up to them, even defeating them. He knew this because his job involved a rather large amount of listening, both to his superior officers, to orders and messages sent to him to take to others, and his habit of "innocent" eavesdropping.

The Free Absolute so far had gleaned enough from Dominion databases to know the collection of races had been around for a long time.. not that it mattered to the Commander. He was happy enough to see them erased from history, certainly after the atrocities that he witnessed day by day. Not the Karthla, nor any of the Dominion races save for possibly the Leprol, were bound by any sense of honor, certainly not one that he embraced. The worst of deaths was little to focus on for the Karthla especially, grossly overusing such things. In return, the Jorro'kil forces thought nothing too far, gladly giving back the horrors unleashed upon them.

The Warrant Officer thought on these things so morbidly that it forced him to withdraw from his ponderings, pulling himself back from the moral gray area.

Looking up, he changed his attitude, swiftly navigating through a small field of tall grass, and returned to his tent, to read in the journal what little he could before his group would be forced to move on.

by **Whos** Sat Apr 26, 2014 4:46 pm

The Commander sat down at his desk, upperarm feathers ruffling slightly, and the journal, along with data pads and a weapon, sat on the flat top. It was a block of light-weight metal, very dark grey in color, and built to be easily assembled and stripped down, when needed.

He opened the journal to where he had last left off, pulling the book open using the last few centimeters of a blue ribbon placeholder.

".. following my squad's last engagement with Karthla forces, I put in a request to increase the amount of lithium power cells handed out before operations are commensed, to prevent a lack of ammunition and charge for equipment, in light of our enemies' tactics. I've noticed that despite the efficiency of the aforementioned power sources, the Karthla mass tactics drain resources quickly. They rush our positions until their bodies are in piles, and our ammunition becomes dangerously low, as well as several other equipment items commonly used on the battlefield..

I was told it would be put into consideration, and I wait for any other reply.

But why am I talking about batteries? I grow afraid of the topics which are the most important..

I fear, from the digimail I've been receiving, that some of my own family has left the Free Absolute.. it's.. hard to understand why they would join Xavez K'roneques.. My own father and closest family have always been very supportive of the Free Absolute and Emperor Whoster, I only knew of the slightest dissatisfaction from my grandfather and a cousin with the Free Absolute, subtle comments I overheard about their belief in the corruption of the High Councils.. yet I do not think they are corrupt. They work to the betterment of our Empire, but I suspect the reason behind my elder's suspicions is that they were not born and raised on Irooscin, but rather the outer colonies.. but to go this far is-"

Another interruption, the Commander's wrist COMM made a high-pitched beep, and a message from his superior overrode the answering system. It was an automated message.

"All forces are to converge on section designate Delta-437, Karthla hive has been located and assistance is required in destroying the tertiary defenses for a combined assault."

It was time to move out.

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