Ten long years had passed and the Huk War went on.
Bloodier, bolder and more brutal than ever as Kaleesh and Yam'rii alike resorted to the most merciless of tactics in an attempt to stamp each other out.
Many a great warrior had risen and fallen in the long conflict.
Heroes and villains, all of which commanding the respect and awe of ally and enemy alike.
All of them were great warriors. All of them were godlike.
Yet among these beings stood one whose legend was unmatched.
No longer was he the child warrior who had destroyed as much of the invader as the most battle hardened Kaleesh veteran.
In those years, he had risen to become a khan despite his young age.
Armed with two long lig swords and the same rifle which had taken the lives of countless Huk, Qymaen Jai Sheelal strode to the forefront of the Kaleesh legions, the kolkpravis.
His golden eyes beheld his legions behind the mumuu skull mask which was the last sight of many an adversary.
As he walked through his forces, they knelt down in reverence for he had long been considered a demigod. He was their weapon, their scourge, and their vengeance against the soulless bugs whose endless greed had led them to oppress the native Kaleesh and plunder what little their world had.
The kolkpraviscamp had been situated in Nkremos, a narrow pass surrounded by nearly impenetrable mountains. Recently, the Kaleesh forces had been driven back further and further in this region by the enemy. Although seemingly trivial, Nkremos was a site that no Kaleesh would ever surrender to the enemy as it was one of the few gateways into Aussez Steppes, home to Shrupak, the Holy of Holies for all Kaleesh.
Knowing this was a battle they could not lose, the kolkpravis had sought the aid of the greatest hero in all Kalee.
The young warlord gazed at the battle brewing below from the high cliffs of Nkremos. He saw native Rapator wheel chariots engage the Yam'rii Arachnoid walkers and automata in mortal combat. His golden eyes absorbed those kolkpravis ferociously defending the narrow pass to their last breaths even as they succumbed to the Huk hordes' bladelike appendages and particle weapons.
The rivers of blood and oil seemed to flow endlessly as the battle raged on.
Perhaps to the other kolkpravis stationed there on the clifftop, the scene may have looked grim. The Yam'rii simply outnumbered them by too far a margin. All of them, though with grief in their hearts, were resigned and prepared to give their lives in what would be a futile attempt to stem the invasion from desecrating their most sacred temple.
He was not one of them.
The young khan saw all of it.
He heard all of it.
He sensed all of it.
In his bones, in his skin, in his very soul, he let the battle flow through him.
Ignominious defeat seemed to loom.
Death to the kolkpravis and their great leader Sheelal.
He should have despaired.
He should have panicked.
He should have considered retreat.
Instead, he did something else. Something utterly insane.
Sheelal laughed.
