Borleias
Current Day

The human was small. Thin. Weak.

Zeralin Lah could not help but be reminded of Gash Jiren, and his blood boiled at the mere thought of that infidel. The scar on his back, the infamous Flame of the Gods – etched on the body using an agonizing combination of amphistaff cuts and acid, hence its infamy – blazed with renewed pain, and that pain caused a smile to cut across the face of Zeralin Lah.

The Flame of the Gods was the scar awarded for the killing of a Jeedai.

The destruction of Veresh and the slaves he had captured in that battle had earned Lah great esteem with the Warmaster, Zhin Dwamor.

A great deal of good that had done, he reflected.

The infidel barely eight meters in front of him chuckled at something amusing that another of them had said in their perverse language. The Yuuzhan Vong commander slid forward, towards the edge of the clearing, his Scarlet Armor barely making a sound.

Had he willed it, he doubted the human would even have felt anything. Unfortunately, he did not.



Czulkang Lah Worldship
Six Months Before

The living cloth drifted across Zeralin Lah’s frame in the light breeze, barely obscuring him from sight. A wet, sucking noise denoted that Zhin Dwamor had shut the entrance behind him, and was now slinking towards his throne. Through the translucent cloth, Dwamor’s outline became visible, doing just that.

His silhouette paused, glancing back. Then his gravelly voice came forth in the flowing Yuuzhan Vong tongue. “My servant,” Zhin Dwamor said. “You honor me with your presence.”

The more diminutive warrior stepped from around the curtain, his newly-adorned Scarlet Armor moving smoothly. He had been rewarded greatly for his conquest of Veresh, despite the losses inflicted by the Jeedai. That he had defeated any of those mystical infidels had earned him a sacred scar upon his back. But his tone of voice, despite these great acts and the prestige they had earned him, was not one which returned the pleasantness of Dwamor’s greeting. “That,” he snarled, “is wholly unintentional.”

The look of welcome slid from Dwamor’s face, as the enormous warrior turned away and continued up towards his throne. “I know not of what you speak, Zeralin Lah.”

“Liar.” The word slid from Zeralin Lah’s lips quietly, all the hate that went along with it burning strong.

Zhin Dwamor stopped, and glanced back. “What did you call me, Commander?” He asked, reminding the other of his rank.

“A liar, though that is the least of the terms I might use to describe you,” Zeralin Lah continued, glaring at Dwamor contemptuously. “Traitorous puul, ignorant kane a bar, imbecilic, malevolent infidel.”

“You are forgetting yourself, Zeralin Lah,” the Warmaster said. “You are forgetting what I have made you. Your loyalty to me has granted you progress – but I have made you, and so I can break you.”

“You knew of Mithra Anor’s deception,” Zeralin Lah continued. “You knew of his attempts to override my authority, to commandeer my men, to twist the assault on Veresh to his own will, yet you did nothing.”

Zhin Dwamor’s eyes narrowed. “I believe that the priest will have a distinctly different version of the events to tell. Need I remind you that he is fast becoming one of the foremost emissaries of the gods –”

“The traitorous priest is dead,” the Commander said defiantly, his eyes blazing.

“Ah,” the Warmaster said. “That is very unfortunate. Your vengeful acts have brought ruin upon you, Zeralin Lah. I can merely say the word, and you shall be cast down with the Shamed. We will see how righteous you are after you have witnessed the full lowness of the tasks I can allot you.”

“The priest has received precisely what had earned,” Lah replied. “And what you have earned.”

“I did only what is the duty of every Warmaster; to follow the will of the gods.”

Zeralin Lah snorted. “You have forgotten yourself, Zhin,” he said, brutally slighting him by making use only of his first name. “You cater to the priest caste as if it were your own. The Yuuzhan Vong are driven by our conquests, but you have forgotten this. You would prefer to wield your pathetic power throughout our society.”

Zhin Dwamor chuckled. “Dare you question the gods?”

“I question nothing but you, ‘Warmaster’. My loyalty is to the Yuuzhan Vong and to the gods, not to the fool priests who believe they know what is best for both.”

The Warmaster shook his head. “I have given you so much, Lah. Your title. Your redemption, even after your failure at Ithor.”

“The only failure, at Ithor or anywhere, was your own,” Zeralin Lah sneered. “I have supported your foolishness for too long, Zhin Dwamor, despite how many times you have failed our people.”

Dwamor’s hand instinctively flinched towards his amphistaff, curled around his waist. Zeralin Lah’s hand moved there just as quickly. Instantly, the two warriors were upon one another, their amphistaffs rigid, clashing on their razor-sharp edges. The Warmaster came at the lesser Yuuzhan Vong from atop him, coming down the steps towards his throne, and used the force of gravity to apply greater pressure to Lah’s staff.

Letting his knees give way, and lifting mightily with his shoulders, Zeralin Lah brought the larger Yuuzhan Vong down atop him, and hurled him over his back. While Zeralin Lah had always possessed less strength and size than the massive Warmaster, his skill was unmatched. The Warmaster’s massive form fell to the ground with a resounding crash even despite the organic floor, but he was instantly on his feet again, and coming at his subordinate.

Before Dwamor could reach him, the Commander’s amphistaff went limp in his hands almost on the command of his thoughts, and he brought in around in a great lash, striking out precisely at the weak joint of his enemy’s knee armor. Blood spurted from the wound as the weapon struck, and the Warmaster visibly stumbled.

Taking a step back, Lah’s amphistaff once again went rigid and, pointed at the Warmaster, shot forth with a great blast of venom. The liquid hissed and visibly burned the side of his superior’s face it had struck, even beginning to wear at his armor. Once again, Dwamor stumbled forward, his face clutched in his hands.

But in an instant, the larger Yuuzhan Vong struck again, his amphistaff lashing out with a powerful blow that threw Zeralin Lah’s staff from his hands by sheer force, as the Warmaster brought his hands over his head in a great follow-through. But the attack had left him open; before his mind could even react, instinct kicked in and Lah grabbed from his waist his Scarlet coufee knife, jamming it into the Warmaster’s exposed waist joint, driving the blade up into his guts.

Warm blood poured over Zeralin Lah’s hands as he drove the blade deeper. Drawing back his mighty, modified Voxyn arm – a spiked and clawed appendage he’d acquired after sacrificing one of his arms previous to the invasion of Veresh – and heaved a mighty blow at the Warmaster’s chest. Sent hurling off the blade, the Yuuzhan Vong crashed to the floor below.

Zeralin Lah, panting slightly from the effort, stumbled over to his amphistaff. He gripped it tightly, and approached the crumbled form of Zhin Dwamor.

“As I said, you have failed our people for the last time.”

And with that, he drew the stiffened weapon over his head, and slashed downwards with its sharp end.



Borleias
Current Day

And with that, he drew the stiffened weapon over his head, and slashed downwards, its sharp end splitting the human in half. His blood added to the already red clearing on the otherwise pristine forest world, and Zeralin Lah looked around at his fellow warriors.

They stood, barely exerted but nonetheless pleased with their victory. Infidel corpses littered the ground, impaled on tree branches, lying broken on the ground, some with amphistaffs pinning them there. The abomination that they had flown to Borleias was burning, pieces of twisted metal laying all about it, some parts melted by venom and acid, others blown apart by thud bugs.

It had been a good day. But it was beneath Zeralin Lah; all of this was. Mindless, pointless infidel hunting, patrolling of their jealously guarded world, the last stronghold of the new Warmaster, was not what the warrior had had in mind when he’d supported Varaz Qel’s rise to power.

The death of Zhin Dwamor had thrown the Yuuzhan Vong into a period of war and peril, where Domains vied for the coveted Warmaster position. Only Domain Lah had abstained from these proceedings; Zeralin Lah had seen many Warmasters rise and fall, and had no desire to join them. This was the way of things: the path of the Warmaster was one that led only to corruption, from what he had seen, and he did not wish that upon himself. His visible dislike of the priest caste had furthermore kept him from pursuing such power.

Yet, strangely, what had never been questioned was why Zhin Dwamor was killed. Zeralin Lah’s reason had been just, but even he had been surprised how easily it had been accepted. It was true, he had held off those who would vie for the Warmaster’s position throughout Dwamor’s rule, but he’d underestimated to just what degree. Even the priests had accepted the death of Mithra Anor, likely both glad to be rid of such an overly ambitious pupil and too fearful to challenge Zeralin Lah, who was well-respected among the warrior caste.

The villip at his waist squirmed, and he grabbed it, opening it to see Varaz Qel’s face embodied by the pliable purple blob. “Warmaster,” Zeralin Lah greeted him. “The infidels have been… taken care of, as always.”

“Then you may return to base, Commander.”

Yes, indeed.

Something would have to soon change, if only for Zeralin Lah’s sanity.

Borleais
Current Day

The world was cold. The sun had long since set over the horizon, the only light now coming from the few blazebugs that hovered in groups near the Yuuzhan Vong outpost.

The cold did not bother Shaedolah Rar. He was a Yuuzhan Vong, conditioned to accept, and even relish pain. A minor discomfort, such as this cold, did not bother him.

It was the planet itself that annoyed him. Borleais had been the scene of much action in the first Yuuzhan Vong invasion. It had been conquered, lost, and reconquered, all with much death among the Vong forces.

The final assault on this world had cost the Yuuzhan Vong their most deloved commander, Czulkang Lah, father of the old warmaster, and one of their massive Worldships.

To Shaedolah Rar, though, these were distant reports. He had not been at Borleais during the battles there....



Borleais
The Past


"The experiment was a success, then?" The Priest asked, looking both ways as if to make sure the room was empty. Set a thousand kilometres from the nearest Vong outpost, though, that was for certain.

"A complete success." The other said, indicating the cloaked figure standing at the darkened window. "He speaks, his mental capacity is on the genius level. He is an Ultimate Warrior."

The Shaper seemed very pleased with himself, Garra (the Priest) noted. But then, perhaps it was natural for the Shaper Caste to enjoy some measure of pride in their successes. And if the shaper's work turned the tide of the war, then perhaps he could be allowed that measure.

"Very well, Master Heretic Shaper." The Priest nodded in approval. "But no word of his origin is to escape. If the Supreme Overlord were to learn of this heresy-"

"I know, Priest. I know of the extent of Shimraa's wrath. The origin of the warrior shall remain unknown."

This was acceptable to Garra, and he moved further into the darkened hut.

"Can I see him?" He asked, his curiousity getting the better of him. With a slight nod of his mangled head, the Shaper pulled the cloak off the warrior and let the moonlight bathe him.

"He's hideous." Garra remarked, as if reporting to his superior. Indeed, by Vong standards, the warrior was. His face was fresh, the leathery skin almost soft to the touch. No scars or indications of rank addorned his features. Where it not for the lest defined forhead and his height, Garra could almost have mistaken his Yuuzhan Vong for an infidel human.

"I have only just begun, Priest." The Shaper said. "You will see. He will blend with our warriors perfectly when the experiment is done with. And then we shall have enough warriors to crush the infidels."

"See that it is as you say, Shaper." The Priest said, turning and pulling his cloak over his head. "And make sure that you breath not a word of this to anyone."

Then he was gone.

The Shaper turned back to his experiment, a smile forming on his tattered lips. The experiment with the Voxyn had gone well. Their destruction at the hands of the Jeedai had been unfortunate, yes. It had almost cost him his life, that.

But he had been spared, and instead sent here. To the middle of a wild jungle, heavily guarded and secure. The guards, he was well aware, were not only there to keep his work hidden. They were there to keep him from escaping.

The shaper had accepted his own death. He was ready to die for the Yuuzhan Vong cause - if his death could bring about the destruction of the infidels, then it was forfiet all ready.

Still smiling, he wrapped the cloak around the warrior and said, "Tomorrow, we'll get to work on making you look like a real Yuuzhan Vong."





The experiment was woken in the night by the sound of thunder. Outside, it was still night. But the sky was being lit by flashes of lightning, which were followed by loud rolls of thunder that shook the building.

He had never seen thunder before, and he stepped outside, his curiosity peaking, to watch. There was no rain, which he knew (though he did not know how he knew) was supposed to accompany the thunder and lightning. But perhaps it was simply protected here, under the branches of the jungle.

The thunder continued, and was soon met with another sound. Warriors, running in all directions and shouting. He caught glimpses of warriors in dark uniforms, running through the forests and exhancing some sort of bright fire with their enemy. Whenever someone was struck by the fire, he collapsed and whithered in pain.

It was then that the experiment realized something was wrong. He turned to retreat into the building, but was stopped by three of the soldiers, who held long tubes that looked to the expierment as if they might have produced the killing ways.

He was taken from the world in a metal spaceship that seemed somehow wrong, to an even larger vessel that left the planet soonafter.

It would be years before he saw Borleais again.





Borleais
Current Day

None of the other Yuuzhan Vong were aware of Shaedolah Rar's past. He had discovered it upon his return to the world of his 'birth', after the epidemic the infidels had called Wrath and the fall of the New Republic.

He learned his true name, Shaedolah Rar, and that he was a clone, developed in secret to bolster the faltering Yuuzhan Vong ranks.

He returned to the planet thinking that the Vong had been utterly wiped from the galaxy, only to find that he was wrong. They were there, and they were waiting for him.

And as he grew into his true culture, he began to inflict upon himselves the badges of warrior rank that he had been denied for far to long. And he began to formulate a plan to secure the Vong's ultimate goal: total galactic domination.

The tides of change would soon be sweeping over the infidel galaxy. The Gods had given the Vong these worlds; it would be up to them to take them back.

Borleias
Current Day

"Warmaster,” Zeralin Lah greeted him through the villip. “The infidels have been… taken care of, as always."

"Then you may return to base, Commander."

With that said, the conversation was abruptly ended, and Warmaster Varaz Qel was left to his own, brooding thoughts. If it was at all possible, Qel hated this planet more than the Lord of Domain Lah. It was too much like the technology-filled planets the infidels felt so proud of.

They would soon learn their ultimate error.

Shaedolah Rar, one of his more trusted Supreme Commanders, seemed not to mind. Qel supposed it was due to the years of slavery within the society of infidels. At first, the Warmaster had thought the Vong insane for having not killed himself during those years.

But no, the Supreme Commander was quite sane, and that was what worried Varaz even more.

What was it that had kept Shaedolah Rar alive all those long years? Revenge? Pride? Hatred? Or was it...was it that the Vong did not realize who he was? No. That was impossible. Qel berated himself for even thinking about it. How could a Vong forget who he was? Or was it he had never known? But that brought even more questions to the Warmaster's mind. According to Shaedolah, he way past childhood when he was taken captive.

Qel forced his thoughts away from the Supreme Commander. Forced his thoughts away from everything he had been thinking of. And in the nothingness of empty thoughts, Varaz found it once again. Why had it been kept in his thoughts all this time? The Warmaster could understand the memories of that time still being there. But this was a nearly photographic memory of that moment. That moment...when he had earned the scar upon his back.

For this was not the first time Varaz Qel had been on Borleias. No. He was there. He was there in that last, vicious assault upon the planet where Czulkang Lah and his worldship was lost. And the memory came flooding back.

Borleias
The Past

Another wad of venom flew from his Amphistaff, and another infidel went down, hands clawing at his face, left do die oh so painfully.

Varaz Qel relished in the feel. The lust for battle he needed. It was addictive. It didn't matter that his Domain was Priest based (at the time). It didn't matter that he was often frowned upon by his family. Because right now, he was in bliss.

And suddenly, his bliss was interrupted by a hot flash of searing pain upon his shoulder, the Cerulean Armor, after having taken an already heavy beating, crumbling under the wait of the blow. As Warrior Qel turned to finish off the fool who had dared shoot him, he realized it was no blaster wielding infidel, but a Jeedai.

"Yenagh doa Jeedai!" Varaz cried out, but there was no one ally around to pay any heed. (They are Jedi!)

The infidel said something in his clicky, crude language, and then laughed. He had apparently said something funny, but Varaz didn't bother to learn the languages of the infidels. It wasn't worth his time.

Varaz realized suddenly that the lightsaber was still digging into his shoulder, the last defense his armor could provide slowly fading away. He pulled back, and the Jeedai struck again. This time, Qel was not caught off guard, and he raised his Amphistaff to block.

The Jeedai howled with a glee of victory, for he was apparently unaware of the strength of the Amphistaff. His expression quickly changed to one of confusion, and his howl quickly turned to stuttering protests. The infidel finally realized that he should probably get some form of defense up, but it was too late.

The foot of Varaz Qel snapped up from under the weapons in mid-struggle, blasting the Jeedai back and to the ground. The confusion was renewed upon the Jeedai's face. For he had used the Force to strengthen himself. This creature was not supposed to be able to budge him.

The Jeedai had no idea that the Vong had spent his entire life training to fight, and he had spent only a few years of his training in mainly-defensive combat.

Qel came at him with a fury, and the Jeedai raised his hand to push him back. As he did not know of the strength of Qel's weapon, he did not know that the Vong carried no link to the Force. And shock was bright in his eyes when Varaz continued on, not phased in the least.

Venom shot out, blinding the helpless infidel, and Varaz now stood over the Jeedai, amphistaff raised in triumph. He gripped it with both hands, raised it even higher, and plunged it down upon his victim.

Borleias
Current Day

"Warmaster Qel." The Vong bowing in front of him shot him out of the darkness of his memories.

"Yes?" He replied, none too happy about being interrupted just as he had gotten to the good part.

"Zeralin Lah has returned to the base."