Six months ago
The Elders of the Ulov gathered on the peak of mount Ohtus, a great mountain with long black rocks rising from it like pillars, but unlike the obelisk spikes of Capital of The Empire these rock pillars were completely natural. They stood like ancient sentries, as witnesses to the history of the Ulov.
Forever present, forever silent, forever… indifferent, 'like the Gods themselves' Khulin Tolk mused to himself as he waited with his fellow Elders.
There were about two dozen of them, most old and hunched, though all adorned in golden and silver chains much like Khulin himself above their dark black tattered robes. They walked barefoot and carried a crooked wooden staff. Each more twisted than the last as if desperate to outcrook the other.
Khulin chuckled to himself as he took in the morning air. This was a new dawn, a dawn that would change the Ulov forever.
His left hand sat under his sleeves as he gripped it with his right, biting his lip hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, he had grown accustomed to pain, but he was still sensitive to it.
'A contradiction, but then again, what isn't? We're the children of chaos and contradiction. It's only a matter of which one we choose to submit to. Which one of our true nature do we embrace....
Do we give in to chaos? Or do we accept contradiction as we find it… why not both?'
Khulin amused himself by observing the elders around him, all eyeing him as they created a space for him. Or simply avoiding him like one would naturally avoid a cripple.
'As if being cripple was a disease!'
Khulin smiled… 'Then..truth be told I would rather have a disease than walk like a fucking donkey with one of its legs chopped off'
"They're here!" A cry came from somewhere, Khulin put on a knowing smirk which was half out of habit and half a grimace from the heat he felt bearing down on him. The Elders stirred and moved to create a semi circle, making space in the middle.
Figures approached up the incline towards the clifftop and the elders stood in silence, their faces impassive and cold.
Aidar, Kuso and Tulok clans walked bare foot, covered in bones, Groll carapace and tattoos, their lips the color of pale faded jade came to stand half a dozen step behind and away from the circle of stones and elders. And from among them three figures approached.
The chief of Tulok– Lodel, was a tall lanky man covered in tattoos and wore a black vest of black leather. He carried a long wooden pole with a metal tip.
The chief of Aidar–Hedron, a huge man covered in red white carapace from an Albino Groll walked up, two axes hanging on his hips.
And then the chief of Kuso–Pethri. He was a shorter man compared to the two and much younger looking, but unlike his people his body wasn't covered in bone piercings. He wore a skull of a panther as a helmet.
"Why have you summoned us elders!" Hedron was the first to ask after kneeling down and slamming his first to the ground in a gesture of submission to the elders, the other two chiefs followed suit, but Pethri did it with obvious reluctance.
His arrogant face sneered in contempt as he just slapped the ground with his palm. The other elders murmured in displeasure, but the young man ignored it, standing lankily.
Khulin's smile on the other hand just widened even more. He stepped up as the representative of the Elders, Khulin didn't miss the disapproving glances thrown his way by some of the more orthodox and older elders. Instead of replying to the question of the Aidar chief Khulin tapped his cane on the stone ground two times.
"You are here, and I see your obedience and we're pleased by it… but where is Kalgin chief! Where is Kezen!"
There was a silence at that, even the elders shuffled their feet at the mention of Kezen, at which Khulin snorted in disgust.
"Has he grown so great that he ignored the call of the elders? Has he forgotten his way–"
"I am well on my way cripple." A booming voice came from a distance, cutting Khulin off. The crowd consisting of Tulok, Aidar and Kuso warriors parted to reveal the figures dressed in leather and chitin war wear.
Kezen of Kalgin had pale skin which had red burn marks, his left cheek covered entirely in a red burn marks. He was a huge man, a head taller than Hedron himself. They said he had the old blood in him and there was little to deny the claims.
"Kezen! You're late, it seems you consider yourself above tradition–"
"Silence you old fool! I have bigger things to care for than your petty gatherings, you dress in treasures that we bring for you, you eat the food that we hunt, you bed the women we conquer! I wouldn't have suffered your arrogance if not for tradition! Say your piece from that rotten thing you call a mouth and be done with it, my patience can only extend for so long."
The elders, pathetically, couldn't even muster up enough dignity to look up at the Kalgin chief. It was known that Kezen had no respect for the elders, he would not listen to their council. Even the other chiefs averted their gazes away, none could challenge Kezen, he was the one who had faced two of the Krimzons chiefs at once and bested them.
Ulov rules itself by tradition, even the great chiefs of the old didn't defy traditions no matter how infamous and powerful they might have been. Except Kezen.
He ruled by the strength, he lived the old ways like the old blood that ran in his veins.
He stood his legs wide and his hands crossed looking down on everyone around him in contempt. Like a father looking down on insolent children.
"You are right Kezen." Khulin said, surprising everyone, even Kezen raised an eyebrow regarding him.
"We elders have been growing fat and lazy on the spoils won and earned by young warriors, but I didn't call you here for that– at least not entirely for that reason… You may show yourself now, outsider!"
There was a silence as all the chiefs turned toward a figure who had appeared out of thin air beside one of the rock pillars. To the right of the chiefs.
The chiefs went stiff, the elders gasped and took half a step back, and Kezen's eyes darkened as he eyed the newcomer.
A tall figure clad in wicked obsidian black armor, his eyes and upper face hidden behind a black glassy visor, his lips painted blood red pulled into a wide smile. Two thin horns rose from his helmet backward like a thin antenna rather than a horn. His hands were behind his back, black cape billowing like a shadowy flag.
"A-a Jallad! Oh merciful crone…" one of the elders whispered stupidly.
"May I present to you all, the Imperial executioner Sha Ashroth." Another round of fearful whispers spread among the elders.
The executioner carried the title of a 'Sha' meaning he belonged to the Imperial Shadow Head. One of the three heads of the Imperial forces.
"And what brings an Imperial Jallad, a Sha so far away from his master's shadows?" Kezen was the first to speak up.
The executioner turned towards Kezen, the constant wide blood red smile never breaking as he spoke in a soft voice, yet it could be easily heard above the noises.
"Im here on the orders of Fang Malice to seek the leader of Ulov's. And it's only to him I shall explain myself."
Kezen moved to stand in front of the black clad executioner, towering over him like a mountain, his body emanating pressure around him with spirit force building up beneath the surface like a dam ready to open its gates and let the water out.
"So.. here we are, speak Jallad."
The executioner looked up, smiling. "To whom?"
Kezen chuckled, his thick brown beard trembling, his shoulder's shook from suppressed laughter, "You show yourself among us– worse yet you come here for a purpose looking for the chiefs and elders, yet you refuse to acknowledge the leaders? Are you mad!" Kezen bellowed and turned on his heels as he glared at Khulin.
"You damn cripple, what is this about? Did you call us all to mock us? Have your rotten traditions not served you well up until now that you even seek the mockery of your chiefs? I should slaughter you and your kin here to set things right."
He took a step forward and pulled the great battle axe from his back, the one belonging to his father before him, the Great Wulgon.
"You're correct again Chief Kezen, you should slaughter us and destroy the elders and our rotten traditions, it is only right–no it's the only way forward for the Ulov. The old ways will not serve us in the coming future."
The Elders exploded in curses and insults, their golden and silver chains jingling as they invoked the name of the mountain gods, and the lady of battle.
Kezen though, halted in his steps and the other chiefs exchanged glances, their bodies tensing, as if sensing something. But the origin of the distress wasn't Khulin, neither was it the Imperial executioner.
"I came to meet the leader of the Ulov, not fools." Said the Jallad.
"The Elders will fall and their ways would be destroyed, but the one to bring about that would not be you Kezen of Kalgin." Khulin said with a wicked, vindictive smile on his face.
Kezen tensed turning around and then– there was a crash of thunder.
A shockwave blasted everyone in the vicinity to the ground, a third of the elders slammed into the stone pillars collapsing in a heap, rhe rest scattered like dust.
Khulin too found himself on the ground, groaning and cursing as he sat up, looking towards Kezen as the dust blew away by a sudden gale.
Kezen stood a way back from where he was stand, a long gash on his chest bleeding profusely as he clutched at it, wild black energy surrounded him like smoke, his great axe had a deep chip in it, and it looked close to shattering.
"Greetings father." Said a tall lean man dressed in a black tattered cloak, holding a greatsword, harsh winds surrounding him.
He was a tall man, as tall as his father with sharp handsome features, stubble growing on his face and his hair long and unkempt.
Kezen looked at the man who had just given him a fatal wound, "Reven?" He asked, his eyes wide in shock.
"You're…"
"Alive?" Reven replied smiling, "I survived... despite your every effort."
"B-but! You didn't come back, I waited for a whole month at the cliff!–"
"Life in the valley of bones was not an easy one, but I survived… and everyday when I was trapped there. I thought of you, and how you had thrown me in there. I did come back though, perhaps if you had waited another month you would've found me. I have waited long for this day, father, longer than you can imagine."
Everyone knew the story. Kezen has thrown Reven when he was a child in the valley of the bones for the Bone trial, a trial that only adults took was forced upon a child of sixteen. In the trial a person is thrown into the Valley of bones and he has to journey to the northern edge of the valley and bring with him the bones of seven great beasts that rule there. They had a month's time, but of course it had taken Reven not one, but two months.
It was still a singular feat of its kind, no child could've survived that valley, much less complete the trial. But Reven had, he had told Khulin so himself. Now the boy had returned a warrior, a warrior with no equal.
"Now… let's finish this father, I cannot contain this storm any longer." Reven said and charged.
His body moved with a boom, the greatsword fell on Kezen's head who batted it aside with his great axe. But Reven followed it with a kick to his father's wounded chest. They clashed and with each clash Kezen was pushed back, battered and hammered to the ground. Their titanic clash stunning everyone around them into fear and admiration.
Kezen was was battered and bleeding, but still looked like a great beast that could not be brought down.
"I see…" Kezen said absentmindedly as he readied himself for the final exchange, pain wrecking his body apart, he would've liked to say that he was taken by surprise, but he wasn't. His son was strong, terrifyingly strong. Maybe stronger than Kezen's own father Wulgon.
"You're a Willsinger now. who gave you the willsong?" Kezen asked but then shook his head and looked at the Imperial Jallad who was looking at Kezen with the same red smile as always. "Nevermind, I can guess who."
"Come. Father." Reven said, taking an unhurried step forward.
"Here I come son." Kezen replied, digging his heels–he dashed forward. Spirit force channeling his every movement. Giving him divine strength as he met his son's vengeful blade with his own.
Reven caught his grandfather's axe wielded by his father on his great sword, bringing their face close enough to touch noses.
"You're dying, father, so perhaps I should be a bit more honest with you." Reven said as he batted away the great battle axe sending his father stumbling a couple of steps back.
His father came at him again, and Reven caught his weapon again on his greatsword, their faces just inches apart from each other.
"I will lead Ulov to glory and greatness, I've sought the right of conquest from the Emperor himself, all I have to do is pay the price in ashes to the Emperor, ashes of his enemies. Die father, and take your pathetic accomplishments with you to your grave. And let me have my prize as I am owed."
His father laughed, "Take a last word for wisdom from your father son, Ashes the price you pay, Ashes the Prize you get, son."
Reven disengaged and brought his blade down on his father, on his own blood. Like a hammer he swung his blade, with the sophistication of a storm he battered at his father's great battle axe until it chipped and shattered to pieces.
There was a lull as everyone watched in stunned silence, Reven brought his blade down and separated his father's head from his body, ending his father's life.
The Krimzon chiefs and Oracles didn't know that day Reven had killed father, slaughtered every elder except for Khulin and brought all the tribes into submission under him. And for the next six months he prepared for his conquest. As for what was his alliance with the Emperor demanded of him, none knew.