Lore

[An abandoned journal describing a Granok explorer’s discovery of Kel Voreth. Her camp appears to have been abruptly abandoned some time ago.]

Recording start. Start, damn it! You started? Good. Lousy, cheap, no-good piece of machinery. But it beats tryin’ to type. Wish I’d had enough for the holocam model, but ya get what ya can afford to pay for.

So this is Jexine of the Explorers Union, recording – ya still – yeah, okay – recording the find of – well, of a lifetime. I have never seen
anything like this. No one has. Well, okay, Thayd. Everyone knows about Thayd. Osun city us Exiles found and set up as a capitol. Needs better taverns if ya ask me, but ya didn’t, because you’re a recorder and I’m wastin’ power. Where was – yeah, Jexine. That’s me. Now ya can’t see me, so I’ll just point out I’m about two-and-a-half meters’ worth’a Granok woman that ya don’t wanna mess with, which is one’a the things that’s made me such an effective explorer, ya ask me. Like
there was that time I was tryin’ to scale a strange-lookin’ mountain when I first got here and climbed to the top, only to realize I was standin’ on top of a giant robot head! Eh, planted a flag anyway. Ya never know.

Where was I again? Osun! You guys will literally not believe this. And I mean that. I bet you really won’t. But I’m here to tell ya there is a full-on fully functionin’ and thrivin’ and smolderin’ and smokin’ Osun fortress filled with those giants lumberin’ bastards. It’s called
Kel Voreth, near as I can tell from the writin’, which is way too much like ol’ Cassian for my taste.

Kel Voreth’s out Auroria way, but it’s a bit early to send in a peace envoy to see if we can get ’em to turn against the Dommies. Ya ask me, and I know ya didn’t, they hate all of us. Hell, they told me as much when I met ’em. But then one’a their females brought out a round’a some pretty foul-tastin’ hooch that did a number on me all the same. In fact, gettin’ a little… groggy.

Anyhoo,
this might be my last entry. Last entry for the night. Why’d I say… I dunno. Maybe I’ll feel like doin’ my own thing, soon, but right now all I want to do is… stand… here. I must wait… for her. She will command… she will provide… will… free will… it is lies.

If you hear this. Read… this. Go. I am Jex… Jex… I am… I am. I do not. I. Am not.

Go. No. Further.

Idiots.

Lore

To forge the perfect slavemaster required the fires of old. The fires of Kel Voreth. Only in this sacred and ancient place will the Osun be reborn as conquerors of Nexus once more. Only in Kel Voreth may Osun smiths create a body for a being as perfect as Slavemaster Drokk. And only I, Forgemaster Trogun, understand the secrets of transforming the constructs of the makers into armor for the soul of the fiercest Osun!

Yea, only the sacrifice of a great
Osun slavemaster is worthy of that immortal frame – and Drokk the Malevolent, scourge of the Makers, shall be that Osun! Drokk the Furious, who slew the Disciples of Fire when they tried to take what was ours. Drokk the Invincible, who tore through the invaders with hammer and axe, striking down the people of stone and the tiny fleshlings alike in clouds of blood and gore.

“But what if the process drives him mad?” some asked. “What price this indestructible slave master?”

And now the answer. What price indeed? A few lesser warriors. Fleshlings. Broken machines of the Makers. Yet clearly it was worth it. He is… magnificent.

He will keep the slaves of Kel Voreth in line, and rule over the Blood Pits. He shall be the first of an army of metal giants with the furious souls of Osun and the indestructible bodies forged from the secrets of the Makers themselves. And when the Osun of Kel Voreth are ready to rise up
and scour the surface of Nexus, throwing their battle-tested slaves onto the front lines, it will be Slavemaster Drokk who shall lead them!

Trogun

Lore

Exanite! It is the single most glorious word I have ever heard. It is a word of the Makers, but it now belongs to the Osun of Voreth. And only I, Trogun, know the secrets of forging it into weapons and armor of terrible strength and power!

The offworlders and outsiders know not of exanite, but they will learn. They will learn at the hands of mighty Osun warriors wielding unbreakable blades, hammers that can shatter the very bones of the earth, and clad in shield and plate
that will never shatter.

Perhaps the fools believe they too can be masters of this holy metal. Perhaps they hope to steal its secrets away from me, from the Voreth Osun, from the Makers themselves. They are welcome to try. The pits thirst for new blood, and the souls of fleshlings who dare enter the sacred fortress of Kel Voreth will pay the price.

There are those among us, heretics and traitors, who claim I, Trogun, do not truly understand the secrets of exanite. Those who call
me fraud or deceiver. They claim it is the elementals of Voreth who truly forge the exanite. They say the forgemaster is nothing without his elemental masters. They are liars all! I, Trogun, am in control. The elemental demons of Voreth serve me, and me alone. They are slaves of the Osun, just as all interlopers on this world shall be when we are done.

So swears Trogun, Forgemaster of Kel Voreth!

Lore

[This diary details the capture of Sharna, a Draken female who was the sole survivor of an Osun attack on her village. She has been fighting in the Blood Pits so long, she had time to compile this document between matches. Her current fate is not indicated within the text.]

I thought the Osun to be great warriors. Enemies, yes, but enemies to be admired. Fierce and strong.

The Osun are cowards and thieves.

My village was just beginning. A small gift of land from the emperor on this strange Eldan
world. We hunted the prey of this new wilderness eagerly, and thanked the gods of old for this bounty. Then the Osun came. There was no honor in these creatures, no thirst for the hunt. They only sought to conquer and kill with no purpose but blood.

I may be the only survivor. I do not know. All I know is the Osun took me, broken and injured but still defiant, and threw me into this pit. And since then I kill every day to stay alive. Not for prey, as a Draken should, but for the amusement of these
gray giants. They will die swiftly for this.

I marked the days when I first arrived, but for naught. The Osun took sick joy in finding and destroying the marks when they threw me into the pit to fight for them. If I had to guess, I would say years. If I had to trust senses, it may have only been days.

And so I fight. Dumb beasts, other slaves – for that is all I am, I see that now – and I slay them all. The Osun do not allow surrender in the Blood Pits.