Everything was pitch black.
Just like the day he'd been killed.
The day Baroth had killed Kraguul....
And left his body face first in the warm dirt of Summerset Isle.
Now he faced judgment.
Judgment for his failure.
He was on his knees, slumped forward, the deep gut laceration left fresh from Baroth's sword. The space around him was nothing but darkness, no creation, no matter. But he wasn't surprised. Not even startled. Because he'd been here before, when he was initiated. But that was so long ago; an irrelevant memory compared to his current situation. They gave him so much power, so much support. Weapons, armies, praise, strength. He was a semi-god among mortals. A boot among ants. A wolf among sheep. A warrior among weaklings.
And now he'd failed them.
Again.
His mind conjured up a vision of Molag in his true form, easily towering over the six-foot-nine mortal.
Though he was in all terms, physically dominate, Kraguul specifically remembered a large portion of his left horn missing.
As if it had been cut off.
Molag pointed his finger at Kraguul, his mouth moving but his words mute. His speech.
Molag had explained how deep Kraguul's failure had been, how misplaced his faith had been this entire time, and how excruciating Kraguul's eternal pain would be, for the rest of time. Kraguul remembered every word that rolled off the prince's lips, like swords to glass, shattering what little pride, honor, and dignity he had left.
But even in the onslaught of words, even in the volley of insults and threats, Kraguul remained silent, never speaking out. Never talking back.
He never would. He had enough self control and respect to lash out directly to the Princes themselves, let alone the strongest of them all.
So, he waited. For the distinct feeling of his skeletal structure slowly collapsing in on itself, as his soul was transferred to the black, endless realm that was Oblivion.
But it never came. The wave of pain, the cut to darkness, none of it came. He was still here.
Then Molag explained why. He said that Kraguul would be a part of something much bigger than an invasion. Something the Princes had been working on for a long time.
Molag told him he would be aided by two other servants, also members of this 'project', the Princes were conducting. One thought long-dead and the other...recently disfigured.
Soon, pain coursed through his veins, his muscles stretched and uncorded themselves, and his bones cracked and snapped. A black mist invaded his body, enveloped him. It soothed the pain in his veins, leaving behind small copies of itself, which then multiplied and conquered his bloodstream. It corded his muscles again and again, coating them, strengthening them. And it reformed his bones, mixing with the marrow inside.
He was stronger now than he'd ever been before.
He had been reborn.
The C1200F Dropship rocked violently as it entered Theren's atmosphere, the chaotic rocking forcing Kraguul to grab one of the many straps that hung from the ceiling of the small space. The room was dark, illuminated only by a dim, red light and filled only with the sounds of outside and the tiny coughs of the men within.
Silence. Just how Kraguul liked it.
The rocking and shaking went on for a few more minutes before the ship finally impacted the clouds and made a crescent of gray smoke as it recalculated its route and flew smoothly over the raging battlefield below.
Rocket fire shook the sky around the ship and the heavy
tat-tat-tat-tat of HGTs (Heavy Ground Turrets) scratched at the ship's hull and outer shields. Some of the men looked about the room nervously, others held onto the straps tightly, their breath uneasy.
Private military. Or so they were supposed to be.
Kraguul only rocked with the ship, his eyes closed as he lowered his head, clearing his mind and organizing his thoughts; his memories and future plans the top of his list.
He drew strength from them, and tapped his inner energy for more power. The same power Molag had given him, he still used it today, but only through stored rage did he access this advance. While the other men and ground troops murmured silent prayers to their false gods, Kraguul dug into his inner well of power and strengthened himself mentally, which gave him a combatic edge. He was focused now, and was not willing to wait until the ship touched ground to use his strength on the unworthy filth on the earth below him.
Releasing his grip on the strap, he calmly walked over to the keypad that controlled the opening/closing of the doors on both sides of them and typed in the code one of the militia-men had told him earlier. Whirring signified the opening of both flip-doors as they made a loud pop noise, moving away from the ship some before inclining upwards, storing themselves in the upper shell of the ship itself.
The wind violently attacked all inside, the muffled explosions and gunfire now coming to full breath, as the ground below rolled by like a treadmill. Ignoring the complaints and whimpers of the other men, Kraguul kneeled down, looking over the laser-filled, grenade-consumed battlefield. To the far left of the ship, another Dropship burst into flames just thirty yards above ground, crashing down in an explosive hail of fire and shards of blazing metal.
For five and a half acres, the battle stretched on, encompassing various resource points (oil rigs, windmills, mineshafts, and planting fields being a few examples), and research buildings. All stopping just a few yards short of the 15-foot tall metal fence and Molybdenum-supported walls which gave cover to the two acre estate of, Silverblood.
Kraguul hadn't the faintest idea as to why Tolis Silverblood had called him here, but it didn't matter. He promised his full support behind Kraggul's latest project if he won the battle over and reclaimed each of the estate's resources. Standing from his kneel, Kraguul made a mental goal of the day: He'd ensure the fall of the advancing Dominion military on this estate, and he'd send each and every one of their souls into the endless abyss of Oblivion.
As he reached his right hand up and unhooked his double-bladed lightsaber, he heard the startled voice of one of the soldiers.
"Hey!!! What're you doing!!?? You'll never survive the drop!!"
Kraguul slow turned his head to glance at the man, his expression blank, emotionless, cold.
"If six-hundred fifty-seven of Tamriel's finest can't kill me, do you really think six-hundred fifty-seven feet of air can?"
And with that, Kraguul ignited his emerald double-bladed lightsaber and leapt from the ship, into the raging air.
The Dropship Kraguul rode in.
Kraguul's armor, minus the helmet.
I don't own this picture or any I have posted in this story thus far. They simply covey my ideas clearly enough. I only use them because they help me visualize my posts and whatnot. I figure you all would want that too.
(Yay! I'm Back! I'm terribly sorry for the disappearance, but I had lost inspiration for a while. I'll post the part for Binsk later, perhaps tomorrow. Simus, I still need that joined post we talked about before I can post for Baroth. Please get back to me on that. Otherwise than that, I'd like some advice from anyone who can spare it as to how I, as a writer, should bring Binsk back into the fold. I left him in a difficult position and I'm not sure how to come back from that.)