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[Act 3 Prologue] Kaaj & Gron - 'ere we go boyz!

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@Sirok & @Geoffrey Teller have given us the best of them to make a perfect crossover of Star trek and high fantasy, klingons and orcs, so i only can  love everything in this JP, from the title to the song.

Great job guys!



((Gre’thors Latrine, Klingon encampment on the outskirts of Calabrum))

Kaaj came out of the tent of his warboss, whom the pitiful weakling peasants called Modrawt, with a savage smile that was as large as it was toothy.. He had not seen the ancient warrior so excited in years but when he handed him that arrow-shaped trinket, everyone knew their long awaited destiny was finally at hand.  Finally they would finish what their fathers and grandfathers had started.  Finally they would crush the hated humans and their stone city.  Finally they would reclaim their lost honor and rise, as the stories told, to hunt once again among the stars themselves.  

The camp had two clearly differentiated areas. The Klingon officers had their tents haphazardly arranged on a promontory, although the way they were positioned meant that one protected the other. Like a pack of wolves, the solitary klingons formed groups like this for only two reasons.  Mutual protection, or when hunting large and dangerous quarry.  Occasionally, laughter and the clash of metal blades or a ringing expletive could be heard.  Their peasant levies did not dare approach for fear of becoming a source of brief and painful amusement for the increasingly frenzied warriors.  

In the lower camp and in perfect orderly ranks were the ramshackle tents of the slave soldiers. There, several Klingon officers shouted training orders with sharp, guttural barks to a huge company of malnourished and terrified peasants.  Those that failed to follow orders perfectly were beaten savagely the first time.  Those that failed a second time became practice dummies for the spearmen or small snacks for the perpetually voracious wartargs. It was a cruel but effective training technique.  It was what had allowed Modrawt to rampage across the country, to gather more resources and equipment, and to finally lay siege to Calabrum.  Almost as soon as his scouts reported sighting the city, the great Kri'stak Volcano began to rumble and belch flame.  Like a powerful omen from the ancient songs brought to life, the sulfurous fumes and searing heat had lit a fire in the hearts of the warriors.    

The young Klingon made his way to one of the tents outside the camp, where the beast guards were stationed.

Kaaj: Good news, brother. We've made it. We've found the ones mother and father were talking about. Our enemies from the stars.

He held out his hand showing the trophy of his defeat, a damaged combadge with the symbol of his ancestral enemy, perhaps the only sweet defeat he would ever have in his life.

In his fairly short life, Gron had come to love only two things with great fervor.  The rancid taste of stinging Blood Mead sloshing down his gullet was by a wide margin the first.  The second were the great wartargs, for whom he had cared all his life.  So far the work had added scars to his skin and subtracted years from his life, but Gron didn’t care.  The wartargs were the brothers and sisters he headed into battle with and it was his pride that they were nearly uncontrollably vicious.  Now the pack was starved, having not been fed for several days so their appetite was at a peak when they reached the battle.  

Gron looked at the golden amulet, and the shattered mountain belching deadly fire against the backdrop of a reddening sky, and smiled.  

Gron: Today is a good day….to ride.  

Gron rattled his trashing stick against the cage bars behind him, eliciting a cacophony of savage yips and snarls.

As soon as Kaaj finished, he patted him firmly on the back.

Kaaj: That's right old friend, at last a rival worthy of a legend.

Behind Gron the targs howled and snarled in apparent agreement.

Gron:  and a meal worthy of legend... 

The conversation was interrupted by a rhythmic murmur coming from the rest of the camp. As they left the tent they understood that the murmur was a song, a song sung in unison by the entire camp.Both Klingons saw all the warriors and soldiers looking at their leader's tent, who was at the door and had the bat'leth over his head. Despite hearing everyone singing the voice of their leader stood out above.

*Qoy qeylIs puqloD.

Qoy puqbe'pu'.

yoHbogh matlhbogh je SuvwI'

Say'moHchu' may' 'Iw.

maSuv manong 'ej maHoHchu'.

nI'be' yInmaj 'ach wovqu'.

batlh maHeghbej 'ej yo' qIjDaq vavpu'ma' DImuv.

pa' reH maSuvtaHqu'.

mamevQo'. maSuvtaH. ma'ov.

Both warriors joined their voice to the song.  Today they would finally secure their places in Sto’vo’kor.  Shouted orders and a stampede of running feet brought the army into marching formation soon after.  The sky darkened and the ground shook as they began the final journey towards Calabrum...and destiny.  



Kaaj of the Klings



Gron of the Klings



*Hear! Sons of Kahless.

Hear! Daughters too.

The blood of battle washes clean

     The Warrior brave and true.

We fight, we love, and then we kill.

Our lives burn short and bright,

Then we die with honor and join our fathers in the Black Fleet where

we battle forever, battling on through the Eternal fight.


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