10th post
WEST BANK, THE FERRYMAN STREAMS,
SEDES AUREA, THE NETHERWORLD (SUMMER 878 ABY)
'Everything alright, Aron?'
Blinded by light his eyes would take a moment adjusting to, Gowrie groaned from the pains of falling through the portal and landing awkwardly on his shoulder, cursing under his breath for a moment until he found enough breath in his lungs to reply
,'Uuugh.... I think so. My damned shoulder's a bit karked though. An' by the way - ow - thanks for that, arse-piece!', in the process of rotating his body to an effective prone position. By this point, it was clear all the artillery barrages, vaulting and falling were all finally catching up the Lord Aron, and though he was enduring it as well any other great endeavour in life, it was clear that Exegol had asked so much more of the Wildcats in the pains and strains of their beloved Kellas.
'Oh, settle down.... And besides - its a bit late in the game to be acting like an old crone's blouse, is it not?'
Lord Aron wanted to be enraged by his trusty Guard-Captain's words, but he couldn't help but laugh, as it was certainly unlike the Kellas to complain from a few bumps and scraped along the way, especially after all that Gowrie had endured to make it so long as a soldier in the first place. Then as soon as the Kellas arose to a poised kneeling position, he pulled his sword from the wet, fertile soil beneath and used it to get himself upright, groaning some more as he stretched his scapula and the tissues around the left rotator-cuff.
'Point taken, mate. So where are we any-? Oh.... Byron - did ye no think t'prioritize for this o'er my wellbeing? Honestly, in your shoes I dare-say I would've opened up wae reports on the surroundings first an' foremost, aye - regardless o' the groans an' the growls.'
But after that both Lairds would make a point of sitting down and looking out across the landscape beyond the running stream they landed by, taking a moment to take stock of everything they had just witnessed and struck out against, as even in all the years and all the battles they had endeavoured together, nothing quite like the events on Exegol occurred in all that time. Threats of all variants of severity, of all sizes and origins, and still that battle against the brain-entity and it's drone-cadavers belittled the combined extremity of all it's predecessors, but the Wildcats weathered the storm as they had for years since 864 ABY - punishing the wicked spirits of the Maw in the only way they could.
'Sedes Aurea.... We're - living, breathing souls.... Sitting on the soils of the Ashlan afterlife.... Is this - heresy?'
Sharing another chuckle with each other for a while, it would be a while before Scott received an answer, though in hearing a Woadish Goidelic brogue behind them drawling,
'Naw, yer in safe haun's here. Especially wae me here, safe conduct an' such.', the response would tell the two Tuaths everything they needed to know. But much to the Major-General's surprise, it was spoken by a voice he recognised with distinct exactitude, and in the moment he turned round to see if his own ears were lying to him or not, Lord Aron would find himself emotionally overcome at the sight of his old friend. A mentor of whom the Kellas lost in the Forlorn Hope of Generis, against the Amalgam's ever-willing Nuetralizers, and a brother-in-arms whose passing ensured a lasting, final end to the Goidelic Clan Wars, such that was considered anomalous by all on every habitable planet of the Galidraan system.
'Good to see ye lookin' well, Aron. You've barely aged a day - except for the hair bih'tt.'
Knight-Captain Bruenn McHugh, friend to Barrans and Gowries alike.
Protector of his comrades, even in the years after his demise.
As was shown in his celestial actions on Korriban - acts of which Lord Aron would remember for the rest of his life.
'An' the eyes, so dinnae be under the impression I missed that or anything. After all, is it not better to let go o' the demons on yer shoulder?'
'Shug- what? How, even?', Lord Aron responded, flooding at the eyelids as his head reached the ground again, floored by the apparition of one he held dear to his heart, the big brother he needed in a time when he was the only Tuath-born element in Blue-Heart Brigade. Finally raising his head from the dirt, the Kellas looked up almost disbelieving his friend's presence, continuing,
'Last time I saw you, besides Generis.... Was Korriban, an' you had t'leave. Pulled away by circumstance, presumed never to be seen or heard from again. An' now, you're here.... How?', with tears still streaming from his eyes at the time.
'Heh! Well, if ye must know, I made it here due to unrelated acts of self-sacrifice that day.... A bit like Generis, but different I suppose. An' there's aw sorts of hypotheses as to how yer ol' pal got here, so there is. Valkyries an' saints galore wae their takes on how I made it here.... But enough o' that, lets take a wee daunder the-gither, we have time enough afore I shunt yees back t'Galidraan III anyways - so lets enjoy it properly, eh?'
The Kellas had nothing else on his mind but to thank Ashla profusely, repeating his gratitudes as if by mantra whilst his fingers clasped together in prayer, displaying behaviours never before seen in all the years he served the Empire, and making it all the more anomalous a sight for Scott and McHugh as they looked on in silence - behaviours never even seen before in any of his tribal predecessors.
Not even in the father who flirted with Monotheism for the sake of gaining support from certain clans of the north.
With everything I am, I give my all in thanks to you.
Ashla, my soul is yours.
[EXIT THREAD]
Belfry of Tund
