Lorwardian Stardate 7/3/578 (Approximately Mid 1979 CE)
Orlok the Immortal's Estate
Lorwardia
"A squadron of Minotaurus walkers are advancing onto your own Strike Walkers, spearhead formation. What is the appropriate response?"
"To defeat them, of course, in a glorious battle."
"No, Uruk, that is not correct." A swift punch to the brutish trainee's gut swiftly showed his inaccuracy. "Can one of you tell me the reasoning?" He paused until one of the others rose. "Yes, Tsavong?"
"The Minotaurus, a bipedal quad-cannoned mechanized walker weighing seventy-seven hundred qualocks each, was designed by the asura as a direct counter to our walker technology. They specialize in the role as their cannons are purpose-built for directional impact blasts to better pierce armor and shielding. This means that while still inferior directly, they are more capable of inflicting casualties. However, warriors moving on foot are capable of avoiding the targeting systems as it is ill suited for smaller, non-walker targets. They are still dangerous to smaller targets, but their specialization proves to be a fatal weakness."
"Good, sit down." The large lorwardian clad in black armor paced briefly before pointing a gauntleted hand towards the holographic representation of the Alliance walkers moving up to engage. "If you will one day command, you must understand both the strengths and the weaknesses of your forces, and those of your enemies. The Minotaurus walkers are just one example of many that you need to be able to understand in a short time. The ones you are pitted against are of caladanian variation. What does this mean, Nei?"
The female lorwardian stood, "This means that it will be enhanced mechanically rather than possessing a secondary launcher. The four variations are ruby, amethyst, azure, and emerald."
"And, respectively, the mechanical effects of the walkers?"
"Increased rate of fire from duplicate energies in the crystal power source, smaller size required granting increased mobility and makes it a slightly harder target without sacrificing combat strength, concussive impacts which partially alleviates the weakness against infantry warriors, and increased primary high-explosive firepower."
"Exactly. The caladanian variant uses the crystals native to their home system, Jingos, and the moons on which the caladanians evolved on. This makes it much more of a direct threat than the asuran variant which uses their advanced technology and magic to launch an assortment of devices and charms into the battlefield..." the instructor glanced at the "Yes, Uruk?"
"Warlord Orlok, why does the Alliance use multiple variations of the same walker? Surely it asks for difficulties in arming them." He did not sound scared of another punch, and he would not receive one. His instructor was not one to punish a fair question.
"Had the design used kinetic munitions, you would be correct. However, as you are all well aware the Minotaurus' primarily powered by energy matrixes to charge its plasma batteries. One of the main sources is, indeed, the caladanian home system Jingos. Now, Giar, what is the origin of the Alliance's primary line of fighter craft?"
The young pilot rose, "The Dragonfly line of craft, designed by the caladanians and modified by the asura, is the primary vehicle of the Alliance's air divisions. While inferior to the meriur starfighter craft like the Oranos, they are far more common and do not require magical potential to pilot. Dragonfly craft are designed with dual propulsion, the atmospheric system being a series of flight modules which creates lift in a similar way to most avian species, reducing strain on engines and providing a lower-tech emergency landing system with control. In space, it locks these modules into place and switches to standard propulsion methods."
"Good." Orlok glanced up to the end of the training hall and nodded as he saw who was standing there at the door. "Dismissed. You know your assignments of study tonight."
The warriors got up, Tsavong nodded to the plate armored lorwardian warlord who had entered, "Father." he said with a smile as he left. Orlok shook his head faintly as the rest of them left and nodded.
"Warlord Warbeak, what can I do for you?" Orlok asked as he sized up the warlord whose armor was stylized to represent a bird of prey via dark red paint.
"I had hoped to see my son's training, he is a fine warrior, is he not?" Warbeak answered heartily, an inactive plasma blade hanging from his belt.
"He is, and he has his eyes upon another of the class, young Nei."
Warbeak shrugged off the comment, "He is matured, it is only natural that he would find someone who he would share glory with. How long is left?"
"Until they head out to their own battles?" Orlok asked with a raised eyebrow. "My training will only last another standard month, and then it is their choice as to their path, be it Manifest or Expansionist."
"Then there will be glory in a month," Warbeak said with a smile, "A month until they begin to carve their own names, to become feared by all of the Alliance..."
I'm not in the mood for this, Orlok thought as he cut his blathering of expected pride off. "I have preparations to see to, Warlord. Excuse me."
"Of course, I will wait in the atrium if you wish to talk."
"No, unless there are pressing matters."
"Very well, find glory in your conquests, Orlok the Immortal."
Immortal. The name stuck in Orlok's mind briefly as he watched Warbeak leave before finally exiting, the thud of his heavy black armor resounding with each heavy step. It was armor, but it was also his cybernetics. Having suffering deep wounds in a battle with an elite group of asuran warp troopers and a meriur shadow disciple, he had nearly died. Then he was rescued by his comrades and they managed to keep him stable enough until they could augment him with the cybernetics he now wore. They had been upgraded since then, mostly shielding and additional backup systems to ensure they were not disrupted by electromagnetic pulse weapons, but they did leave a residual feeling of unease as he walked through the halls. He no longer suffered the blood haze as the glands which produced additional adrenaline were lost, and he had enough cybernetics that some said he would live forever. This belief, combined with his glory, had gained him a new name to replace his former war name, Bloodrage. He sighed, Oh to be young again, to feel the rage of battle in my veins, to feel the bloodlust that characterized my youth. To feel the simple times again...
He shook the nostalgia away. He had grown far above that simple bloodlust as a berserker dual wielding energy scythes to rip opponents apart anywhere from molecule by molecule to whole heads. He now studied the finesse of battle and the art of war rather than spilling blood for the honor coupons. Indeed, he had progressed far in a warrior's lifetime, from the rage of youth to the wisdom of age.
XXX
XXX
Two Standard Hours Later
Spar'Tan's Blood and Tankard Tavern
"So," Giar asked as he emptied his metal tankard of a non-alcoholic energy drink. "What do you think your war name will be, Tsavong?"
"I don't know," the burly lorwardian, rubbing his chin and glancing up with his yellow eyes, ponytail on his mostly-bald head hanging to the side. "But I think I'll follow the vein of my father. Wareagle, perhaps, or maybe one of the older spellings of Warhawk."
"Well, you've been spending a lot of the time with the jet pack," Uruk commented in his normal deep guttural voice as he took a swill from his tankard, which was filled with an alcoholic beverage. He was built like a brute, heavyset and top heavy, but almost all of it was muscle. He wore his greenish-black hair long, and a forked beard dropped from his chin, matching the black hide clothing he wore when not going to battle. "But I want something that strikes more than just a bird of prey. Warhamur, or Brut'Taal, perhaps."
"Archaic spellings?" Giar asked.
"Course. How about you, Giar? What're you going to become an ace as?"
The slim, bald pilot put a thoughtful hand to his shaven face. He was small for a lorwardian, but most pilots tended to be, as they could handle the cramped space of a cockpit. "Battlehawk, I believe, conventional spelling. A fine name for the leader of a Thannix squadron, don't you think?"
"Maybe," Nei said, turning her head so her green ponytail was visible. "But I believe the name should be earned by a peer giving it to you rather than be chosen. Look at the Warlord..."
"To be fair to the Immortal, the name only came because he is, his original war name self chosen, right?" Uruk chimed in with a shrug as his hand dropped to one of his favored power hammers.
"Only because no one else could describe the state he was in when he earned it." Tsavong explained with a casual shrug. "Besides, so long as it is a good name to be remembered by and it is remembered, then we will live on, no?"
The holo-transmitter in the center of the table started beeping. Glancing at it, it read that it was a war update on the war as a whole. A brief nod from the group prompted Giar to turn it on. Images a battle were present in the desert of some world. The lorwardians were in conflict with Alliance forces, though they could not make out who it was yet.
"Minotaurus walkers, so it's either asuran or caladanian." Giar commented as the drone recording and transmitting it moved into a better position.
"Based on the energy shot, I would say caladanian." Nei said as one of the walkers fired green plasma bolts. "I have always wanted to see those avian get their feathers ripped from them."
"Wouldn't we all?" Uruk grunted. "They are the weakest of the Alliance, by far. Yes, they possess so-called superpowers, but they lack the genius of the asura or that accursed magical might the meriur have. I'd rather fight meriur than caladanians. All they have to them is two fairly worthy powers in some of the population and sharp feathers..."
"Metallic feathers," Tsavong commented as the drone got close to get a look at the caladanian soldiers themselves.
The drone had chosen to focus on a lorwardian warrior who was rushed by a desperate caladanian soldier who leapt from the trench the Alliance defenders were fighting from. As his particle rifle was knocked away, the caladanian rushed with claws ready and the sharp metallic feathers on edge so that they were like a row of serrated blades. His claws had a distinct blue glow as the warrior blocked the swipe with his staff, severing it mostly in half. The warrior finished the break and dual wielded, knocking the caladanian off of his feet and onto his back before stabbing with the still working end. The caladanian rolled to the side, dodging the lethal strike, but was knocked away by an off-hand smack and the warrior finished the barely conscious soldier off. The warrior then leapt into the trench to brawl with other caladanian soldiers in hand to hand combat as it became a rainbow mess of caladanian powers and lorwardian plasma as a few other warriors joined the first. The battle raged on, recorded by the drone, and their conversation continued.
"I still wish we could crush one of those Alliance species already." Nei commented as she held her arms. "It is wrong that they have been able to resist lorwardian strength for so long."
"Through sheer numbers, if nothing else." Uruk commented as he leaned forward. "Soon we will get our chance at earning glory, and it shall be with the blood of caladanians, meriur, and asura that we'll brew the victory toast. I've always wanted to try one of those asuran blood brews your father sometimes makes, Tsavong..."
The door opened and Tsavong glanced at who entered. "Nei... it's Cran."
Nei turned her head to see the rival walking in, like a bloodhound sensing prey. "Excuse me..." she said, pushing back her chair and walking over. The others leaned in to whisper.
"She's seriously going to do it? I thought they gave her a warning already about trying to get into fights too soon, even Creske isn't as eager to pick a fight, and she's a real berserker." Giar anxiously whispered.
"Bah, you worry too much about the instructors." Tsavong retorted derisively. "What are they going to do, yell at us for giving in? If anything, I would join in. So long as no one dies or is crippled, they will not raise a spear. In fact, I believe they will like it and be eager for us to turn our fury against our racial enemies."
"Old Spar'Tan might not appreciate a spontaneous brawl in his bar, though." Giar added as Nei started talking angrily with Cran, a challenge likely to follow as Cran made choice remarks about her skill with a weapon.
"Bah, he's far too old to care unless they damage something, old Hierarchy hond..."
And at that moment, Nei slammed Cran into a nearby free standing table, smashing it to pieces and spilling blood as the other lorwardian crashed through the reinforced table. Uruk got up, momentarily forgetting to leave his power hammer behind before he put it down, smiling viciously as others began to hurry in. Tsavong watched Nei's tactics with interest. She seemed to be determined to pick a fight, and quickly made a makeshift staff out of a stool's stem. He could not help but feel attracted to that kind of fighting, the desire to go in and carve glory with the blood of an enemy, yet not be so drawn into the bloodlust as to forget thinking. He noticed a group of other trainees from another teacher moving in. Ah, Cran must have arranged for back up. Clever, to have allies. He pushed himself up as Giar sighed. "Alright, Tsavong, I'll be your wingman."
He nodded, and the two joined the fight, rushing for Cran's back up and entangling themselves with them, keeping them from reaching Nei. Tsavong smiled as he leapt into the air to dodge a kick from one of the reinforcement trainees, landing on another before charging forward, enjoying the adrenaline rush pumped into his body by the rage of battle.
By the time Spar'Tan and his sons got involved and finally broke the fight up, the only ones standing were Tsavong and Nei, who smiled at each other as Uruk was being dragged away from the pile by Giar.
XXX
End Chapter
Standard Disclaimers: I do not own the Kim Possible series, nor anything related to it. That belongs to Disney and affiliates of which I am of no part of. Drakken owned Beuno Nacho briefly, but that got confiscated when the courts found out he had used mind control to make the old owners sign it over to him...
Author's Notes:
- This is a fanfic that has been bouncing around my head for a while. Basically, what was the Thirteen Moons of Jingos? Warmonga mentions it in passing to Shego during 'Mad Dogs and Aliens', but otherwise the lorwardians in the show were purely 'alien conquistadors out of nowhere'. I've always figured that this meant there was a greater galaxy out there, and therefore many stories open. Therefore, I've decided to finally tell the story. Fair warning: This is intended to become a War Fic as a result of well, it's a galactic war going on. I believe that I will be able to keep it within the Teen rating while being realistic enough, but if the content turns out to be too much I will adjust the rating accordingly.
- Given the room that I have to work, I also wanted to take the chance to look into the history of Warmonga and Warhok, to show them before they became the powerful conquerors that they are seen as in the show. 'Humanize' them, if you would. One example is the usage of the 'war name' thing, which is something I felt fit the lorwardians thematically; they earn their name in war and until then have a name they were born with. So, why not start with seeing them before they earned that?
- Also, the only two characters from canon are going to be Warhok and Warmonga, everyone else is going to be characters that I created because... there's literally nothing beyond Earth other than these two. So, expect some world building to go on. However, I will do my best to avoid information dump and limit it to allusions and explaining things as they become relevant.