Gal'Zhoren
Character
Gal'Zhoren despised waiting.
In fact, Truthfully, he despised it almost as much as the pathetic weaklings he'd spent most of his life purging from existence. But, wait he must.
It had only been a few minutes or so since he had returned with the major and his team following the succesful slaughtering of some supposedly important human or other.
Gal'Zhoren found that particular notion most humorous but dared not make a sound feeling it may cause disrespect. Instead, he just sighed. It was a long sigh, one more out of boredom than that of exhaustion. Feeling a subtle change in the force, Gal'Zhoren snapped his neck to the side to see the other three minors in his strike team nodding slowly. They understood, he realised, and felt almost as though a comforting wave rolled over him. He shuddered and returned his gaze to the stained wall. The same stone wall he'd been staring for what felt like an eon since the major and shadow headed through to speak with the warlord.
Gal'Zhoren found himself staring at the stain on the opposing wall. It was a jagged yet faded, orange smear. He imagined the creative methods that would bring such a stain to life. He grinned wildly once he settled on the probability that a prisoner may have had his or her head obliterated against it. He imagined the stain as though it was fresh, as though he was the one who created its legacy.
He liked that wall.
It was around this time that Gal'Zhoren first noticed the dense quiet of the hallway. The quiet was loudly unsettling.
As a whole, the disdain Gal'Zhoren felt for his enemies was palpable. But, at least they were loud- deafening almost- in their deaththroes. Or, rather, their screams were. Either way, Gal'Zhoren mused, they were not silent. Not like the silence now. The unnatural, growing silence was almost suffocating and despite Gal'Zhoren's best efforts, it couldn't be ignored.
'This.... Silence' he thought. 'Is this what fate would await the universe after the Bryn'Adul conquest?' Perhaps. Almost instantly, he winced and wished his mind would become a physical manifestation so he could brutalise its doubts.
He shrugged off that opinion quickly. 'A warrior shouldn't think, he should just be.'
He thought ironically.
Gal'Zhoren despised waiting. He hated the silence, too.
It made him think.
In fact, Truthfully, he despised it almost as much as the pathetic weaklings he'd spent most of his life purging from existence. But, wait he must.
It had only been a few minutes or so since he had returned with the major and his team following the succesful slaughtering of some supposedly important human or other.
Gal'Zhoren found that particular notion most humorous but dared not make a sound feeling it may cause disrespect. Instead, he just sighed. It was a long sigh, one more out of boredom than that of exhaustion. Feeling a subtle change in the force, Gal'Zhoren snapped his neck to the side to see the other three minors in his strike team nodding slowly. They understood, he realised, and felt almost as though a comforting wave rolled over him. He shuddered and returned his gaze to the stained wall. The same stone wall he'd been staring for what felt like an eon since the major and shadow headed through to speak with the warlord.
Gal'Zhoren found himself staring at the stain on the opposing wall. It was a jagged yet faded, orange smear. He imagined the creative methods that would bring such a stain to life. He grinned wildly once he settled on the probability that a prisoner may have had his or her head obliterated against it. He imagined the stain as though it was fresh, as though he was the one who created its legacy.
He liked that wall.
It was around this time that Gal'Zhoren first noticed the dense quiet of the hallway. The quiet was loudly unsettling.
As a whole, the disdain Gal'Zhoren felt for his enemies was palpable. But, at least they were loud- deafening almost- in their deaththroes. Or, rather, their screams were. Either way, Gal'Zhoren mused, they were not silent. Not like the silence now. The unnatural, growing silence was almost suffocating and despite Gal'Zhoren's best efforts, it couldn't be ignored.
'This.... Silence' he thought. 'Is this what fate would await the universe after the Bryn'Adul conquest?' Perhaps. Almost instantly, he winced and wished his mind would become a physical manifestation so he could brutalise its doubts.
He shrugged off that opinion quickly. 'A warrior shouldn't think, he should just be.'
He thought ironically.
Gal'Zhoren despised waiting. He hated the silence, too.
It made him think.