October 26, 2111
Dro'Zer
In a dimly lit room, a somber yet idiosyncratic melody tuned into Dro'Zer's ears. The players involved in this meeting waited patiently for their visitor. Dro'Zer leaned in a dark, uninviting corner. At the end of the room, a man sat on his chair with a disturbingly meditative demeanor. His back faced the center of the room. Only his ice blue, power-house arm was visible to Dro'Zer. Airra, the head warlord, waited at the center table behind the man in the chair. She was tasked with dealing with the guest.
Dro'Zer studied her. She was a female dytirc with bark skin. Vines and branches grew out of her body; she was a literal walking tree. Her attire breathed power and prowess. She was the head warlord and wanted everyone to know it; designer cloth armor with a gold and gem finish, a golden forehead protector resembling a crown, and heavy plates over her waist and legs. The crown jewel was a short-sleeved, long white jacket over her attire, closed in the front by a thin, orange rope. The jacket was decorated by gold, flame-like motifs on the edges with the dytirc word for "Indomitable" written vertically down the back.
"Our guest has arrived. Shall I fetch him for you, Airra?" a dytirc honor guard asked Airra.
"Be a dear," she answered him with a manically commanding tone.
The guard walked to the back of the room and opened the door, letting in the guest before stepping out of the room.
The guest, an omelic man, wore a bandanna and mask to cover his head and mouth. To blend in with the dark, the omelic wore a loose black bodysuit highlighted by metal plating on his shins, arms, shoulders, chest, and waist. Throughout the outfit was various pouches and threads that were glowing with energy. Dro'Zer knew him by his distinctive eyes. One was yellow, and the other was purple - a condition commonly known as heterochromia. And both irises looked of shattered glass.
"Airra, it pleases me to make your acquaintance again," the omelic said as he reached the table. His voice was muffled behind the mask, though his alpha dog tone stood toe-to-toe with Airra's.
"Oh, Ghost, you're adorable." Airra snickered at her sarcasm. "You're just here for your mission and the reward that follows." She gave him the cold shoulder.
Ignoring Airra, Ghost adjusted his vision to see the man in the chair. From his position, Ghost wouldn't have been able to see much. "Who do you want me to kill this time, big man?" Ghost dug his words towards the man in the chair.
Airra lashed out, "No! You speak to me! Understand, you ruddy tool?" Her outburst stunned the omelic man. From his reaction, Dro'Zer gathered that Ghost didn't know what to make of a dytirc woman speaking like that. In Airra's culture, only men would typically speak in such hostility. "Good!" She pulled out a hologram image for Ghost to see. "This man's name is James Stone. He is your next target."
"Would you like me to kill him like I did the last person?" Ghost asked, with a twinge of disgust.
She laughed. "That's what your cult is for, right? The Brotherhood of Relics."
Ghost snarled from behind his mask at her mocking view of his brotherhood. Dro'Zer could see Ghost's anger building as the omelic clinched his knuckles several times. "Our brotherhood was established to uncover the mystery behind the Devisors; whatever the means. Maybe you should handle that man yourself instead of having my brotherhood do your dirty work?"
"Rarhaha! Ruddy good joke there! But if you want the locations of the Devisors' ruins, you'll do as I say! Our warlords have their hands full with a war. We can't waste precious time with insignificant individuals such as this man."
"He can't be that insignificant. This James Stone person took out a warlord," Ghost retorted.
She let out a wry, disturbing laugh. "Steion was hardly a warlord. He was merely a torturer… a way for us to get information. However, his death does mean we're down to seven warlords. Though that isn't any of your concern! Now get out of here and do as you're told!"
"Sure thing, you're majesty." Ghost gave Airra a sarcastic bow before leaving the room.
Once he was gone, Airra called out to Dro'Zer, "You may come out of the shadows now." Dro'Zer emerged from his dark corner of the room, chainmail armor pieces jingled with each step. His white fur grazed the center table as he pressed his arms against it. Dro'Zer towered over Airra. As a korkyran individual, he was bred for war. "It's time, Dro'Zer. We have our mission. Steion was kind enough to get us one of the Quondam Keys, along with the location of another. It's time we take what's ours!"
"Does this mean it's time for the korkyra to enter the war?" Dro'Zer stroked his chin.
"Yes, dear. The Wersillian Legion held up their end. Now your species needs to hold up theirs."
"The Wersillian Legion saved our species, and we're indebted to you for that. As the king of my people, I will do all I can to repay that debt - as will my people."
"Your species will prove to be the turning point for us!" Airra unleashed a cynical laugh to the tune of the same melody.
TO BE CONTINUED…..