Daosr Tu Tra Hurae (Part II - The Battle of Deokumd)

[Lore / Background]: "The unnamed alliance would steadily trickle down into the region of Deokumd, one of the most spiritually significant regions on the planet, owing to a unique natural phenomenon where the sands of Deokumd's dunes are made of an unusual mineral with similarities to diamonds. It is also here where the Vemsk Uk Raoqam's holy citadel, the Akbar Svera lies. Through smaller guerilla warfare operations in and around the region, the holy capital soon became too weak to defend themselves from the constantly-moving invaders. Sure enough, one fateful night, the capital fell under siege and the zealots who controlled the many resource-rich regions were left broken and shattered..." [Female Tribal Chant] Kur Sra Daod! Kur Sra Reqems! Kur Sra Siersae! Kur Sra Emmucams! Kur Sra Daod! Kur Sra Reqems! Kur Sra Siersae! Kur Sra Emmucams! Kur Sra Daod! Kur Sra Reqems! Kur Sra Siersae! Kur Sra Emmucams! Kur Sra Daod! Kur Sra Reqems! Kur Sra Siersae! Kur Sra Emmucams! (for the dead! for the living! for the guilty! for the innocent!) [Verse I – The War Before Dawn] Before the sun cuts through the haze, small tribes crawl through thorn and shale. No banners raised, no horns awake, just knives in mud and breath held pale. Winged scouts glide low through ravines, wingless hunters stalk the ground. They mark the roads, they count the guards, then vanish without a sound. A caravan burns by the dry creek bed, its hull is split, its grain turned black. A priest convoy disappears in dust— none return, none ride back. [Pre-Chorus] Not strength in number, not walls of stone— but patience sharpened into bone. Strike the nerve, bleed the vein. Let the giants of faith learn endless pain. [Chorus] Break their roads, burn their stores, hit the gates, then fade once more. Claw by claw, scar by scar, we drag the tyrants into war. They bring the fire, they scorch the land— we rise like dust from every hand. Deokumd, hear the drums— the broken tribes have come. [Verse II – The Raoqam Answer] Then the Vemsk Uk Raoqam move, vast as thunder, wide as plague. Columns march through sacred grass, zealots chanting through the haze. Priests in veils raise blackened staffs, blessing torch and spear and chain. They burn the groves beside the wells, turn the pastureland to flame. Scorched earth under a silent sky, smoke climbs where the wild once breathed. They salt the paths, they poison springs, leave ash where villages grieved. “Sarqa Tra Bruud!,” their war-cries rise, “buv su keramca, braad kur rov.” (Serve The Brood!) (...bow to silence, bleed for law.) But from the cliffs, the smaller tribes watch every movement, find every flaw. [Pre-Chorus II] They crush the field to starve the seed. We strike the hand that spreads the greed. They march in lines. We hunt in thorns. They burn the earth— we become the storm. [Chorus] Break their roads, burn their stores, hit the gates, then fade once more. Claw by claw, scar by scar, we drag the tyrants into war. They bring the fire, they scorch the land— we rise like dust from every hand. Deokumd, hear the drums— the broken tribes have come. [Breakdown I – Guerilla Raid] Cut the bridge. Drop the stones. Kill the lamps. Leave them slaughtered. Smoke the pass. Break the wheel. Strike the camp. Take the steel. No clean line. No open field. No single throat will make us yield. [Verse IV – Open Battle] At dawn, the citadel drums awake— Deokumd’s heart of grain and ore. The Raoqam deploy in holy ranks, ten thousand claws before the door. War-beasts armored jaw to tail, turret nests on broken towers. Priests chant from the inner wall, calling down the Brood’s dark wrath. The smaller tribes do not retreat. They split, reform, and strike the flank. Javelins arc from scrub and stone, snipers crack from ridge and bank. A left-side column breaks pursuit, chasing shadows toward the reeds— straight into pits and hidden fire, where the wingless captains lead. [Verse V – Invasion of the Tribal Citadel] The outer gate is lashed with hide, reinforced with bone and hammered plate. The first ram cracks against the seam, the second bends the iron straight. Smoke pots roll beneath the wall, black clouds choke the firing slits. Winged raiders land on tower roofs, talons locked in brutal grips. A horn sounds three sharp notes— the signal tears across the sand. Wingless breachers rush the gate with charges carried hand to hand. One blast— the hinge-frame splits. Two blasts— the courtyard screams. The third blast opens the walls like a wound inside a dream. Then the tribes pour through the breach, shields up, spears low, rifles high. Raoqam zealots countercharge, prayers foaming from their eyes. Stone stairs become a killing slope, every landing bought with pain. A priest falls over the parapet, his veil on fire in the rain. The citadel’s great drum is struck, then struck again, then split in two. Its silence rolls across the walls— and every tribe knows what to do. [Bridge II – The Silent Brood] High above the carnage, hidden eyes remain, behind veils of omen, untouched by pain. The Silent Brood, the secret throne, watch their faithful break on stone. Were they protectors? Were they parasites? Were they wisdom or a thousand years of night? If they only move when needed, why did they let the world decay? Why must tribes bleed each other dry before the dawn can find its way? [Final Chorus – Uplifting, Defiant] Break their roads, burn their stores, hit the gates, then fade once more. Claw by claw, scar by scar, we drag the tyrants into war. They brought the fire, they scorched the land— we rose like dust from every hand. Deokumd, hear the drums— the broken tribes have come. Raise the wounded, guard the grain, wash the ash from root and plain. Winged and wingless, side by side, no more shame and no divide. Where the old world came undone, we stand beneath the rising sun.