Posted Nov. 28, 2018, 3:24 p.m. by Civilian Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) (James Sinclair)
The Sons had regrouped back at their ship. Urg’tohn was pleased with the way things at the museum had progressed. The Builder would be pleased with their progress, and the thought brought a smile to Urg’tohn’s face.
It was then that the feeling began…
At first, Urg thought he had heard someone moving around in the cargo bay where he was. He stood and looked around, his hand instinctively going for his knife. Looking around sniffing at the air, he didn’t discover anything out of the ordinary. A soft noise drew his gaze to the stack of sheet-rock set aside and adorned with offerings to Kaavar’ton The Builder. Urg moved closer; watching the smattering of broken blades, spent power cells, nails, screws, and bits of armor from their vanquished foes for any sign of disturbance. As he looked, the sheet-rock moved, ever so slightly, as if a great weight had been removed from atop it. The lights dimmed, replaced by a deep red glow, and the air became warm and filled with the smells of a great feast. As the big Klingon looked about himself, a completely silent ethereal scene began to coalesce before his eyes.
The cargo bay was replaced with a great hall of a noble house of the Empire, grander than any ever seen on Qo’noS. A long table dominated the hall, longer than could be seen in one gaze but still visible in it’s entirety, covered with food and goblets of Blood Wine. Around the table sat all of the great warriors from the entirety of Klingon history. In silence they drank, ate, and fought; smashing tables and chairs against each other, only to have them immediately reappear whole and ready for the next blow. Tankards smashed together in silent toasts as the assemblage celebrated their deeds and victories, told stories of great battles, and laughed and cheered each other for all eternity.
At the head of the table sat a figure of indisputable power and respect: Kahless The Unforgettable; First Warrior King and Emperor of the Klingon Empire. From his seat on a raised dais, he watched the eternal celebration with an air of distanced approval and a faint smile. By his side sat the bat’leth he used to slay his brother Molor, the blade still dripping the blood from that fateful battle all these millennia later.
As Urg’tohn watched, he was filled with the desire to join the celebration, to set himself against these great warriors and prove himself and his House worthy. As he took a step forward, a large black hand fell upon his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Turning, Urg’tohn saw the ruined horn and terrible visage of the true Kavaar’ton. The Builder. The Rock. The Foundation of House Duroc. The ruined face of the gigantic warrior smiled at Urg, and shook his head. A voice, strange but still so familiar as if he had known it forever, filled his mind but made no sound. “Now is not your time, Warrior of House Duroc. They are not here for you or yours.” and the broken-horned giant stepped past Urg and into the hall.
When his first cloven foot stepped onto the floor of the hall, everything stopped. Eyes turned to look to see who dared interrupt their hard-earned revelry. Hands went to blades and clenched into fists. And then came a single booming echo that seemed to rock the very foundations of the Universe.
It was Kahless. Still seated, his hand gripped his fratricidal blade; and one point had been thrust into the dark stone of the floor around his throne. As the echo of the blade hitting stone faded, all of the assembled warriors looked at Kahless, then at The Builder. As one, they stood tall and proud. As one, they slammed their fists against their chests, the sound of gauntlet-ed fist on armor being the only audible noise. Kavaar’ton stood tall, looking at Kahless with pride and without fear. Kahless saw The Builder and smiled. With a single gesture, a second seat was brought forth. Made of stone and bone, it was solid and immovable. A throne fit for The Builder.
Kavaar’ton turned and looked at his followers. He laid one of his great hands in turn on top of each of their heads. Each felt a great sense of honor, of duty fulfilled, and of pride. Kavaar’ton then reached down and tapped a blackened fingernail against their holy medallions. As he did, each flashed and became white hot, burning the Brothers with his symbol over their hearts. None of them flinched or cried out. The pain was part of their duty, part of the blessing of knowing The Builder. And each bore it with strength and dedication, as befits those chosen to follow Kavaar’ton, and who knew the blessings of his presence. The Builder looked at each, and smiled with pride. He then turned and began walking.
As he moved through the hall, he began to change. His back straightened. His scars became healed, but still visible as befits a warrior. His broken horn grew, the broken piece now back but replaced with the finest steel; a testament to his past. As he walked past the great warriors of history, each placed a fist on their chest and bowed their heads in respect. When he finally found his way to the foot of the dais where sat Kahless, he was whole again; a proud Klingon Warrior, unmatched in stature, strength, and honor. Khaless smiled upon him, and motioned him to the stone seat next to him. Kavaar’ton stepped up, turned to the hall and to the Sons of House Duroc, and silently placed his fist on his chest. He then lowered his arm and slowly took his seat by Kahless’ side. When he was finally seated Kahless raised a tankard, a gesture copied by all the warriors present. The Builder nodded, the tankards were drained, and a silent eruption of cheers was visible to the onlookers.
As the cheering went on, Kavaar’ton stood up and looked down the length of the infinite table to the Brothers, to his followers, to his Sons. He nodded once, picked up a tankard, and raised it in a silent farewell.
Warriors do not cry. They do not feel loss when comrades fall. But a single tear was shed. Not by The Builder. But by Urg’tohn. He knew his House would prevail now. He knew The Builder had received his honor after so long. But he felt the departure of Kavaar’ton weigh so very heavy upon his heart. And he knew that weight would not be lifted soon.
Urg’tohn, Son of The Builder, Son of House Duroc, Faithful of Kavaar’ton
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