(Not a big post, but is one to help bump the thread and advance a GM plot point a bit since the bigger cross-collab post will take some time and this plot point exists independent of the big space battle about to hit) [h2]Deneb IV - The Pits[/h2] Aunalak was once again continuing the usual slaughter. The precision to which the souls exist the body of those slain is hard to truly put to words. One could imagine they seep through the wounds, others imagine a slow release from the last breath of the slain. Others still, just imagine it like blood draining into the ground... and into the pits. The impaling of the various monsters the dominion throws, it is shameful. The killing is so factory-like that it would have been a better profession just to slaughter animals. Animals, what an old memory that brings Aunalak. But Aunalak knows the time nears. The glorious time that this grind will pay off, with all those dead. The nature of The Pits however, even made Aunalak almost convulse for what it has sensed happen in them. The pits could not be visualized, but could be felt very easily even from the arena. The pits were uniquely grotesque, the arenas were what they had no shame airing to the stars around Deneb, but the pits. Even the Dominion had shame for the pits. For in the pits, the Dominion had even their own kind tossed in. The smell even for Aunalak was terrible, what it must be for the choking, diseased creatures once known as humans left to wallow around all those corpses with other parasite addled beings? That a species that could take to the stars is able to be so savage almost fascinated Aunalak. If only fellow Craetak learned from them faster, Aunalak thought. What was more fascinating however, was that Aunalak had those who seemed to be fans of it. They called Aunalak, “Stiffy Stabbs”, yet shouted those words animalistically from the perches which they sat. They loathed Aunalak enough to make it butcher for their entertainment, yet that same butchery was what brought them so close to Aunalak. Aunalak never really had much in the way of fellow Craetak company, but so often those it had imagined resembled others like Aunalak speaking of the lost times before the Dominion crushed so many in their way. So Aunalak, despite being a slave to the Dominion, still had a sense of privilege in this society. After all, Aunalak had the right to butcher. The frail humans who made this Dominion in those pits did not. Aunalak stands over them, in the arena. While they go mad from all the rotten alien flesh tossed into the pits, they must subsist on for whatever cause brought them so low. As Aunalak continued to butcher, an announcement could be heard, “Emperor Octo Smith has sent us a message- That he will return despite the… aliens eating people… and that he is unconcerned about… well… to paraphrase… the possibilities to which we may face when hosting a Slaughterfest. But do not worry, citizens of the Dominion! Our security has been improved significantly since that message, as you are about to see.” Just then, groups of soldiers in powersuits entered the arena from all sides. All armed with armor that has been tried and tested over the centuries. Such forces being stationed here made it clear that the emperor is near and that they are strangely worried for it. Aunalak didn’t really think much on that, too absorbed in its own circular laments as the butchering continued. --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- [h2]Aboard the TDF Capital[/h2] “That simpering announcer bitch changed what I sent them. I will be sure they are tossed to the pits, along with those who dared cancel the 415th slaughter fest!” Octo Smith yammered to no one as he watched his video stream in his personal cabin. He than got up from the 20th century style couch he had brought in and pulled himself up in his medical power suit and walked out of the cabin where he had someone, whoever that someone is tell him some non-sense about peacekeeper camp time at the unimportant worlds of Soot, Curtis and Othea. He just told that someone “Not of my concern, little girl. The people of the Dominion need me at Deneb, they need their emperor at the slaughter fest. We have neglected the slaughterfest too long. They have grown weary. There is a lot of weariness. I just wanted to be sure no funny business was going on, robed weirdos or such that dare drag me away from the slaughterfest any longer! Any suggestion other than going to the slaughterfest is treason.” That middle-aged woman happened to be his advisor. She calmly assured him, “There is no intention to change routes anymore. We are headed to Deneb IV right now.” Octo Smith nodded his head and just said, “Good, but just remember if we end up going to some other planet again you will be thrown out the airlock like that traitor you found for me.” He than left back to his cabin while the advisor was just relieved that Octo Smith was only going to kill her if the ship had to stop anywhere else other than Deneb again.