The Last Primal

Silently listening to the suggestions of the Lieutenant, General Dorian was immersed in the map, humming at the many smaller suggestions that were made.

From the separation of the ranged and spreading them around the many elevated positions for a higher vantage point for greater advantage, or the clever usage of the local forage, correctly utilizing the thick forest to hide the reinforcement and the light cavalry, so that the enemy could be taken off-guard when or if they decide to strike back after the first initial rounds of assaults to their defenses.

Even the clever positioning of the support, hiding some of them in the thick shrubbery of the trees, some behind the rocky terrain, whilst only just a meager small party would be close to the front.

The suggestions were showing a much keener insight than most of General Dorian's captains had shown. The signs of a great strategist, a tactical, analytic mind.

His captains were mostly known for their personal powers or fame. From the barbaric, fierce beast, Rillon, the leader of the Makhor, or how they were better known, 'the Serrated Teeth of the Godly Emperor'. He was a robust, bald man, dumb as a rock, and simple as the straight arrow. He was nothing like the others, had no brain for devising schemes, or convoluted plans. He knew only one method, and that was to crush his foes head-on. His fearsome group of relentless warriors always charged at the front lines, hacking through mountains of gore, never to falter, never to fail no matter the opposition.

Then there was his exact opposite. The old man, Exarch K'hlen, the dark magician, the blight of the Wastelands. A thin, hunched-back man with ropes of greasy long gray strands of hair. His outward appearance matching his soul, dark, twisted, and disgusting, he and his group of spellcasters should never be looked down upon.

They were the fabled dark magicians, the necromancers in service of the Emperor, Dorian's father. Rumors say that he was responsible for several villages in the borders of the Wastelands suddenly turning into nothing more than mass graveyards.

Reports about the air in these settlements were said to be filled with the overwhelming stench of rot and death. The bodies of the villagers were filled with hideous blights and blisters. When one of the bodies were examined it seemed that some sort of illness or plague of some kind festered inside these poor unlucky sods, killing them slowly from the insides. It was said, that those that died must have suffered tremendously as their organs, flesh, and bones slowly dissolved, leaving nothing behind but a gelatinous gooey substance.

Though he was never connected to the mass murders, Exarch K'hlen was known to be training with his apprentices around that region during that time. Yet, due to his high standing, his title as being one of the high priests of the Empire, just under the Primate, Holy One, the Godly Emperor's second hand, no one would have the guts to accuse him or his group over the demise of a few hundred commoners.

In any way, besides these two polar opposites, -one a brute, one a bonafide schemer-, the rest were equally as unique as the rest.

Lieutenant Sievul already met the most mysterious of them all, the figure only known by the nick Syf. This tall, lanky man with short, curly black hair and an unshaven rough-looking face always had that sinister glint in his eyes. Leader of the shadows, the spies and scouts that infiltrated each and every nook and cranny already in the whole eastern side of the continent, he was most likely the host of many dark secrets.

Yet, despite all that untapped knowledge and potential, he was a faithful servant of the revered Godly Emperor, never to question, never to betray his will. Whilst he retained an aloof, somewhat distant attitude to everyone, even his peers, and the Generals as well, he was fearful and reverent of the Emperor.

The rest of the 3 Captains were, like the others, were each unique in their own way.

Somewhat similar, but at the same time, holding a vastly different role, the buxom mature beauty of Lorelei captained the smallest, yet one of the most feared sections of the army, the assassins. With two literal mountains weighing down on her chest, it was quite a sight to see her nimbly sneak from shadow to shadow.

Yet, despite the obvious nature-given blessing-slash-handicap, she was frighteningly accomplished in her profession. Using every asset, every skill she had to her fullest advantage, once she set her greedy claws on a target, it was most likely a done deal.

She commanded a very compact little group, barely reaching into the forty, but each and every one of hers was feared murderers, throatslicers. Each was a heartless, emotionless killing machine, ground to perfection through years, decades of arduous training, and live missions.

People of high standing feared and respected them in an equal manner, not daring to show disdain or contempt, lest they would make it on their fabled 'list'.

Like with Rillon and K'hlen, Lorelei also had her polar opposite in the ranks of captains joining her in this current campaign. The second and only other woman that reached such a high ranking, Captain Elena was nothing like the busty seductress.

Elena had short, straight blonde hair, much unlike the long wavy velvety raid cascade of Lorelei. Elena was slender, slim, and too much to her sorrow and the source of her usual bratty, willful attitude… flat-chested.

Whilst Lorelei had this natural seductive, alluring charm, the soothing, warm whisper-like tone of voice that hardly any man could resist and would instantly raise their inner beast and lust wherever she went, Elena was mostly aloof, cold, distant in the presence of the other sex.

She had a strong mind, headstrong. With her deep azure blue gemstone-like eyes, Elena could just as well pierce into the core of the lust-driven beasts, the men. Still, although she was nothing like Lorelei, Elena was just as much of a beauty in the eyes of the soldiers. Like Lorelei, she too had her own fan club, not bothered by the fact that she didn't consider them as dirt upon her leather high heels.

Elena was the leader of the ranged forces, one that seemed to be getting increased attention in the upcoming conquest for Higrove.

Last but not least, the stoic, and mostly silent, but sturdy, reliable rock, the island in the vast sea… Captain Sarid. The oldest of the captains, older than even the General. In fact, he was once his caretaker, his guardian, his protector. A silent protector, a mountain of muscle tucked into a metal can, painted dark and red matching the empire's colors.

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Planned Tags and Genre:  # CULTIVATION  # R18  # BETRAYAL  # TRANSMIGRATION  # URBAN  # ACTION  # ANTIHERO  # OVERPOWERED (romance maybe at some later point)

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