"Omen of Durace"
7th post
Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autum of 876 ABY)
The lad's Cortosis sword was a marvel to behold in action, and in seeing how much Ronar had given of himself to the rage of war, Thomas knew for a fact this one would lead his own war-tribe someday, a process the one-eyed Woad immediately decided he would offer mentorship over henceforth. After all, there was a chance the young warrior wouldn't be alone in this regard, so the Bloodhound's grand design of warfighting power would need to factor in Ronar in some fashion anyway, and especially if Lord Superious accepted Barran's offer to join the Tri-Lunar clique in the end. However, the one who had lost the group she arrived with would be brought into the fold on a different merit entirely, and mostly down to the fact the Twi'Lek had no rank, title or sophisticated blade with which she could stand out, it was in the wild, unbridled savagery of her own design that her exploits caught the Omen's attention.
'DIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!'
Broken from blissfully warlike reverie, Barran would be given no choice but to set his internalised Tri-Lunar designs aside for a time, as the threat of the immediate matter would need to take up the one-eyed Woad's focus for as long as the Hellion/Sabretooth contingent continued to fight doggedly for the first trench-line. A stocky Sabretooth-Trooper had rushed him with machete swinging wildly towards his temple, but in snapping out of his standing stupor, the jolt to his system had kicked the Bloodhound's instincts into overdrive, reliant on the reflexes he'd learned whilst training on Mar'Zambul as he ducked the blow deep enough that the Durasteel deflected off the Beskar Brodie-Helm at an upward angle. It was just enough of a window to negate the danger in whatever way Thomas saw fit from there, and in choosing to close the distance for a single-leg takedown, the dangers surely would be negated with ease, but the strength of his opponent met the Woad's own with a deft, deep-digging sprawl that scuppered the forcefulness of Barran's tackling impact.
'Not bad, Imperial! But-'
Reflexes were kicking in from a life he couldn't remember, forcing a nose-bleeding migraine that forced the Bloodhound back a few pace, but the upward-driving headbutt with the Brodie-Helm had done it's trick, driving the heavyweight Imperial back a few paces in turn. Perfect spacing to step into an upward-slashing strike that would be impossible for the Sabretooth-Trooper to escape, and when both their first paces stepped out to rush forward, it was already much too late for Barran's opponent to do anything about it, losing arm, shoulder, neck and head to the quick application of the Romphaia's unnaturally-sharp, downward-hooking tip. A shield-breaker by design, and with the obvious disembowelling potential considered, it was no wonder why Thomas so strongly gravitated towards the idea of forging such a beauty in the first place, especially if one factored in how cleanly the slash had sliced it's recipient also.
'THAT WAS MY FRIEND, MAWITE SCUM!!!!'
But some challenges were much too adverse, much too difficult to negate with the likes of an Aethysian greatsword, and with the drop well-established on him from almost ten paces away, the only thing Barran could do was brace for impact and hope the old Flak Jacket had the fortitude to withstand the stopping power of a shotgun. His fate was in the hands of the Dark Three, and instead of meekly shielding his eyes from the moment as it unfolded, the Bloodhound opened his arms in acceptance of his ultimate sacrifice, ready to take the Cycle's greatest leap of all.
'NOW BE A GOOD SPORT AND SMILE FOR THE SLUG-THROWER!!!!'
Launched back by the force of the impact, Thomas would collide with Mawites and Imperials as the heavy-hitting shot sent him careering backwards and off his feet before coming to an unceremonious halt with his face in the bloody mud beneath. The lucky-shooting Imperial would be cut down as he tried to chamber another shot, with his back exposed to a screaming, frothy-mouthed marauder with half his face missing already, seemingly rising up from the ground to inflict retribution for the slight on his commander, or perhaps even for the fact the slug-thrower could've been the very thing that took half his face away in the first place. Either way, it had ultimately proven enough to keep a second slug from tearing into the material of the flak-jacket, another of the small blessings that the Dark Voice would bestow on the Bloodhound that day, another of the many reasons to keep fighting on against all odds.
'THAT SLUG-SHOT JUST RUINED MY HIPFLASK, YOU CRETINOUS MORON!!!! I WAS SAVING THAT FOR-'
Though his vision was still blurry from the blow to his chest, the motion of a bayonet-toting rifleman was enough to avert the killing blow by a few inches, rolling through the muck, gore and blood to avoid each attempt to stab his throat until the mercenary's rage forced an error. And in the moment the Hellion soldier's rifle got stuck between a dead-comrade's ribcage, Barran found his moment to grab onto the rifle and kick his enemy's feet backward, resulting in a trip that brought the mountaintop defender to his knees, bringing the mercenary into perfect point-blank range of the Woad's pistol, chambered and unleashed in a mag-dump before the Hellion-affiliated rifleman could do a single thing to stop it. Then, with the small reprieve of the little victory, an equally-befouled Scar Hound cyborg helped the Bloodhound to his feet, making use of their breathing-room to shove him towards his closest subordinates in the area, as it looked to the cyborg that both Ghoul and Nail were in dire need of help at the time.
And thus the fight continued on, with warriors rising from the filth of the deathly riot they created in courage and fear alike, only to be cast back into it again with lasting finality, rising and falling in a mass-grave of their own making. People fighting and dying on both sides as the second and third trenchlines watched on from just a few hundred metres south of the melee. The Mawites would spill over the first defence-line eventually, but as for when, none among the Sabretooths or the Hellions could say for sure; their efforts to hold against the tidal wave of ultraviolence had proven better than admirable in the beginning of the fight for Mt. Geran, but the majority of those watching the mayhem from beyond knew that such endeavours were never prepared to last. The unfolding struggle would reach their lines sooner or later, but nothing else could be done for as long as they hung back and waited for actionable orders, a shortcoming of sorts that Barran had every intention of turning to his advantage.
'And now it all clicks together! GLORIOUS!!!!'
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART THIRTEEN
Mt. Firthwatch, West of the Akar Kesh,
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)
'You rang, idiots?'
Both Rook and Dreamer had been watching their friend's process of transporting the Branchlurkers uphill, and in seeing the spacing, were able to relax, knowing that there would be no issues in the attempt to deploy them all at once; and by the time Caz eventually arrived to coordinate with the eastern pincer, Barran's closest friends would be in a very excited mood, and very much receptive to the Twi'Lek engineer's suggestions from the the offset. Dreamer would make a point of getting out the Goliath to greet Caz personally, mostly in consideration for his kindly facilitation of Rook's last-minute change of plans as he replied,'Good to see it all setting up quickly though, and you get to relax now too, and now all your remaining workload's gonna be centred around those Moon Children we brought along with us.', shaking the engineer's hand before he drew Caz's attention to the Flesh Raider grounds below.
'Can't ask for better for the Mineheel Firm today, and besides - you're gonna love what comes next.... So sit back and enjoy the show, Caz. We've got monsters to throw in now, so it's not like you're gonna be bored or anything.'
Accepting the small respite on the spot, Caz stepped onboard to quickly check if all the Branchlurker teams were in place and ready to unleash their monsters at a moment's notice, happy to sit down and share some of his hooch with the others as he made a point of passing his hipflask with eyes still very much transfixed on the blips above the holographic-plinth. Dreamer knew better than to take his friend too seriously, and Twi'Leks often had a funny way of showing comfort among likeminded people, with Caz being of no exception to this fact, having seemingly ignored Barran's best Tri-Lunar but still having the common courtesy to pass him the hipflask first. The purple-skinned marauder was deep in focus, but still managed to finally say,'It is quite a busy day for the Mineheel Firm, Dreamer. But if it's going to be as entertaining as you say, I'll stick around.... At least - for a while anyway.', whilst in the process of automating standby orders for the Branchlurkers on his datapad.
'You won't regret this, Caz. Biggest Tri-Lunar play yet if it works out-'
Then, within moments of finding their conversational flow, several bright flashes of blinding red light lit the horizon behind them, tearing holes in reality all across the skyline beyond, and to the extent that perceptions of distance, substance and realism were already taking on what seemed to all in attendance that the planet was passing into a phase that verged on the very precipice of irrevocability. But then the black-lightning crashed, unleashing a storm that seemed to shake Temple Valley like a ragdoll, testing the very foundations the Scar Hounds' eastern prong was almost-completely reliant on. Stepping out to see what damage had been caused already, the trio on the east prong would look to the skies to find the sun on the precipice of eclipse, but eerily sustaining in it's deep-set crescent - brought to a blood-chilling standstill by the mauled, torn reality alone.
And yet, it quickly became apparent to Caz that they weren't alone either.
Tearing his gaze away from the marvel in the sky, the Tri-Lunars' beastmaster would find the apparition of something altogether more intriguing, and though this individual took the form of a youth, the spectral shadows that surrounded her suggested an agelessness that took such a form to allay the Twi'Lek's fear of Eternity's hand in all of it. And yet, it would work enough to prompt a verbal challenge to the new presence.
'YOU THERE!!!! Who are you? What brings you to this place, and at such a time as this?'
No word will articulate my presence.
No realm will tether my soul.
My only purpose is to observe.
Observe with me, or leave.
'First, allow me the simple task of unleashing my monsters - then I will observe it all with you.'
The entity turned to face him, but there were no eyes, no lips or ears to discern her origin, and as a result, no way the trio could judge her intent, her reactions - the very perception of her existence.
For all that the Tri-Lunars could see and feel emanating from the Entity, she was still no-one, nothing on almost every conceivable level of sentient perception. And yet, in seeing the slow, ominous nod as her answer to Mineheel's one and only request, all three commanders knew that Caz had been very fortunate, instantly realising that the Twi'Lek had inadvertently tried his luck at an inopportune moment; however, for reasons completely unknown to them, the Entity was feeling rather patient that day, for the nod in and of itself was ultimately affirming Caz to be safe in his promise not to keep her waiting for too long. So just before the order was given, Minehell would offer gratitude with a bow, calmly drawling,'My thanks, Nameless One.', before straightening his posture to look for his comm-link receiver. A wise choice, for none could doubt the power of the Entity in these moments, and especially not the likes of Rook and Dreamer, both completely taken aback by the sudden nature of the encounter - and in clear contrast to their purple-skinned friend.
Metallic rattling crashed in warped echoes across the horizon, letting loose the predators within as they screeched and howled their ways out and descended on the Flesh Raider Grounds below, bearing down on the ranks of soldiers from several opposing Anti-Maw factions, with nowhere else to go but back into the very dangers that were besetting them before. A mere formality of their presence in the area, but as the Entity and her mortal acquaintances watched on, it seemed to all those on Mt. Firthwatch that such a formality would be sent by way of necessity and cruel intent with it, heralding their own part in the slaying of all who would dare oppose the Dark Lord Solipsis. Whether those below had their own ways of dispatching near-unassailable horror, or weapons enough to hold them back, was quite debatable in the early stages, but the weather-patterns and anomalies were very much swinging the surprise element in favour of the Branchlurkers by the time they sprang forth from their cages.
OPERATION: SHATTERPOINT
From the header to the template, it's all amazing work! Thank you very much, Nef! Scar Hounds are rollin' out in the DRIP now!
THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON
Objective 1: ATTACK EVERYTHING!!!!
Thomas Barran
"The Bloodhound"
ANOINTED ACOLYTE OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
Allies (BOTM/NSO):
Darth Solipsis
The Mongrel
Keilara Kala'myr
Shai Maji
Ardana Vorco
Erion Justeene
Darth Saevius
Ronar
Scylla AI
Enemies (NIO/Enclave/NJO): Rose Dorce
Hall Mannarra
Asanté Tsilor
Bex Tarring
Aerys Myrrine
Ollis Barran
Jas Katis
Annor E-059
Saul Vandron
Asmus Omaand
Alessandra Io
Kal
Caltin Vanagor
Rex Valhoun
Loadout
Protection/Equipment
Beskar Brodie-Helm
Free-State Surplus Gas-Mask
2nd-Gen Galidraani SF Combat Webbing
Free-State Surplus Flak Jacket
Hipflask (Mineheel Moonshine)
Weaponry/Explosives
SA-35 Heavy Blaster Rifle
AP-25i "SIMP" Particle-Beam Blaster Pistol
Beskar Romphaia
Old Fairbairn Vibrodagger
X3 Incendiary Grenades
X2 Flashbangs
X3 Tetan Mastiffs
X5 Repurposed Valdr Skær-Pattern Dual-Role Droids
Scar Hound Array
X1 Scavenged Goliath Main Battle Tank
X50 SHT-66 "Malm-hrið" Heavy Battle Droids
X100 SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bikes
X75 Scavenged XT-62 "Cataphract" Main Battle Tanks
X20 Branchlurkers
X300 Moon Children
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART TWELVE
The Summit of Mt. Geran, Eastern Arros Range,
From the header to the template, it's all amazing work! Thank you very much, Nef! Scar Hounds are rollin' out in the DRIP now!
THE ANNIHILATION OF TYTHON
Objective 1: ATTACK EVERYTHING!!!!
Thomas Barran
"The Bloodhound"
ANOINTED ACOLYTE OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
Allies (BOTM/NSO):
Darth Solipsis
The Mongrel
Keilara Kala'myr
Shai Maji
Ardana Vorco
Erion Justeene
Darth Saevius
Ronar
Scylla AI
Enemies (NIO/Enclave/NJO): Rose Dorce
Hall Mannarra
Asanté Tsilor
Bex Tarring
Aerys Myrrine
Ollis Barran
Jas Katis
Annor E-059
Saul Vandron
Asmus Omaand
Alessandra Io
Kal
Caltin Vanagor
Rex Valhoun
Loadout
Protection/Equipment
Beskar Brodie-Helm
Free-State Surplus Gas-Mask
2nd-Gen Galidraani SF Combat Webbing
Free-State Surplus Flak Jacket
Hipflask (Mineheel Moonshine)
Weaponry/Explosives
SA-35 Heavy Blaster Rifle
AP-25i "SIMP" Particle-Beam Blaster Pistol
Beskar Romphaia
Old Fairbairn Vibrodagger
X3 Incendiary Grenades
X2 Flashbangs
X3 Tetan Mastiffs
X5 Repurposed Valdr Skær-Pattern Dual-Role Droids
Scar Hound Array
X1 Scavenged Goliath Main Battle Tank
X50 SHT-66 "Malm-hrið" Heavy Battle Droids
X100 SHT-26 "Bedevil" Heavy War Bikes
X75 Scavenged XT-62 "Cataphract" Main Battle Tanks
X20 Branchlurkers
X300 Moon Children
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART TWELVE
Northern Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autum of 876 ABY)
'ADVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANCE!!!!'
A storm of warriors, a raging tempest of aggression, such tides of wrathful glory had closed the gap between the Woad's Scar Hound contingent and the Imperials who unleashed the last of their frontline pressure in the hopes it would whittle down the sheer weight of the forces assailing them. Some successes were found in this regard, some were not, though it seemed to matter very little to the strategists at the summit, as more lines of defence awaited beyond the faux-first; though much to the chagrin of those holding the first real line of defence, the second and third defensive-lines would remain idled for as long as the friendly-fire risks remained, a small but workable blessing on which the Bloodhound was more than willing to capitalise. And not only was Barran eager to make use of the honourable mistake, but in looking around him, he could see that everyone's bloodlust had carried them well within the eye-pleasing reach of the initiative, especially so in seeing the likes of Ronar and the gutsy Twi'Lek woman fighting on more gleefully than most.
Both will become Tri-Lunars, this much I can guarantee now.
Good, the clique must be strong if we want to lead such a tribe effectively.
Good, the clique must be strong if we want to lead such a tribe effectively.
The lad's Cortosis sword was a marvel to behold in action, and in seeing how much Ronar had given of himself to the rage of war, Thomas knew for a fact this one would lead his own war-tribe someday, a process the one-eyed Woad immediately decided he would offer mentorship over henceforth. After all, there was a chance the young warrior wouldn't be alone in this regard, so the Bloodhound's grand design of warfighting power would need to factor in Ronar in some fashion anyway, and especially if Lord Superious accepted Barran's offer to join the Tri-Lunar clique in the end. However, the one who had lost the group she arrived with would be brought into the fold on a different merit entirely, and mostly down to the fact the Twi'Lek had no rank, title or sophisticated blade with which she could stand out, it was in the wild, unbridled savagery of her own design that her exploits caught the Omen's attention.
Moved by eternity, just like the greatest.... And like Ronar, this one also belongs.
'DIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!'
Broken from blissfully warlike reverie, Barran would be given no choice but to set his internalised Tri-Lunar designs aside for a time, as the threat of the immediate matter would need to take up the one-eyed Woad's focus for as long as the Hellion/Sabretooth contingent continued to fight doggedly for the first trench-line. A stocky Sabretooth-Trooper had rushed him with machete swinging wildly towards his temple, but in snapping out of his standing stupor, the jolt to his system had kicked the Bloodhound's instincts into overdrive, reliant on the reflexes he'd learned whilst training on Mar'Zambul as he ducked the blow deep enough that the Durasteel deflected off the Beskar Brodie-Helm at an upward angle. It was just enough of a window to negate the danger in whatever way Thomas saw fit from there, and in choosing to close the distance for a single-leg takedown, the dangers surely would be negated with ease, but the strength of his opponent met the Woad's own with a deft, deep-digging sprawl that scuppered the forcefulness of Barran's tackling impact.
'Not bad, Imperial! But-'
Reflexes were kicking in from a life he couldn't remember, forcing a nose-bleeding migraine that forced the Bloodhound back a few pace, but the upward-driving headbutt with the Brodie-Helm had done it's trick, driving the heavyweight Imperial back a few paces in turn. Perfect spacing to step into an upward-slashing strike that would be impossible for the Sabretooth-Trooper to escape, and when both their first paces stepped out to rush forward, it was already much too late for Barran's opponent to do anything about it, losing arm, shoulder, neck and head to the quick application of the Romphaia's unnaturally-sharp, downward-hooking tip. A shield-breaker by design, and with the obvious disembowelling potential considered, it was no wonder why Thomas so strongly gravitated towards the idea of forging such a beauty in the first place, especially if one factored in how cleanly the slash had sliced it's recipient also.
'THAT WAS MY FRIEND, MAWITE SCUM!!!!'
But some challenges were much too adverse, much too difficult to negate with the likes of an Aethysian greatsword, and with the drop well-established on him from almost ten paces away, the only thing Barran could do was brace for impact and hope the old Flak Jacket had the fortitude to withstand the stopping power of a shotgun. His fate was in the hands of the Dark Three, and instead of meekly shielding his eyes from the moment as it unfolded, the Bloodhound opened his arms in acceptance of his ultimate sacrifice, ready to take the Cycle's greatest leap of all.
'NOW BE A GOOD SPORT AND SMILE FOR THE SLUG-THROWER!!!!'
BOOM!!!!
Launched back by the force of the impact, Thomas would collide with Mawites and Imperials as the heavy-hitting shot sent him careering backwards and off his feet before coming to an unceremonious halt with his face in the bloody mud beneath. The lucky-shooting Imperial would be cut down as he tried to chamber another shot, with his back exposed to a screaming, frothy-mouthed marauder with half his face missing already, seemingly rising up from the ground to inflict retribution for the slight on his commander, or perhaps even for the fact the slug-thrower could've been the very thing that took half his face away in the first place. Either way, it had ultimately proven enough to keep a second slug from tearing into the material of the flak-jacket, another of the small blessings that the Dark Voice would bestow on the Bloodhound that day, another of the many reasons to keep fighting on against all odds.
'THAT SLUG-SHOT JUST RUINED MY HIPFLASK, YOU CRETINOUS MORON!!!! I WAS SAVING THAT FOR-'
Though his vision was still blurry from the blow to his chest, the motion of a bayonet-toting rifleman was enough to avert the killing blow by a few inches, rolling through the muck, gore and blood to avoid each attempt to stab his throat until the mercenary's rage forced an error. And in the moment the Hellion soldier's rifle got stuck between a dead-comrade's ribcage, Barran found his moment to grab onto the rifle and kick his enemy's feet backward, resulting in a trip that brought the mountaintop defender to his knees, bringing the mercenary into perfect point-blank range of the Woad's pistol, chambered and unleashed in a mag-dump before the Hellion-affiliated rifleman could do a single thing to stop it. Then, with the small reprieve of the little victory, an equally-befouled Scar Hound cyborg helped the Bloodhound to his feet, making use of their breathing-room to shove him towards his closest subordinates in the area, as it looked to the cyborg that both Ghoul and Nail were in dire need of help at the time.
And thus the fight continued on, with warriors rising from the filth of the deathly riot they created in courage and fear alike, only to be cast back into it again with lasting finality, rising and falling in a mass-grave of their own making. People fighting and dying on both sides as the second and third trenchlines watched on from just a few hundred metres south of the melee. The Mawites would spill over the first defence-line eventually, but as for when, none among the Sabretooths or the Hellions could say for sure; their efforts to hold against the tidal wave of ultraviolence had proven better than admirable in the beginning of the fight for Mt. Geran, but the majority of those watching the mayhem from beyond knew that such endeavours were never prepared to last. The unfolding struggle would reach their lines sooner or later, but nothing else could be done for as long as they hung back and waited for actionable orders, a shortcoming of sorts that Barran had every intention of turning to his advantage.
I hear the drums, I hear them louder than ever now.... But I also hear tanks - I hear our tanks.
'And now it all clicks together! GLORIOUS!!!!'
NEXUS OF THE BLOOD-HOUND: SHRIVEN NO MORE - PART THIRTEEN
Temple Valley, Tython (Late-Autumn of 876 ABY)
'You rang, idiots?'
Both Rook and Dreamer had been watching their friend's process of transporting the Branchlurkers uphill, and in seeing the spacing, were able to relax, knowing that there would be no issues in the attempt to deploy them all at once; and by the time Caz eventually arrived to coordinate with the eastern pincer, Barran's closest friends would be in a very excited mood, and very much receptive to the Twi'Lek engineer's suggestions from the the offset. Dreamer would make a point of getting out the Goliath to greet Caz personally, mostly in consideration for his kindly facilitation of Rook's last-minute change of plans as he replied,'Good to see it all setting up quickly though, and you get to relax now too, and now all your remaining workload's gonna be centred around those Moon Children we brought along with us.', shaking the engineer's hand before he drew Caz's attention to the Flesh Raider grounds below.
'Can't ask for better for the Mineheel Firm today, and besides - you're gonna love what comes next.... So sit back and enjoy the show, Caz. We've got monsters to throw in now, so it's not like you're gonna be bored or anything.'
Accepting the small respite on the spot, Caz stepped onboard to quickly check if all the Branchlurker teams were in place and ready to unleash their monsters at a moment's notice, happy to sit down and share some of his hooch with the others as he made a point of passing his hipflask with eyes still very much transfixed on the blips above the holographic-plinth. Dreamer knew better than to take his friend too seriously, and Twi'Leks often had a funny way of showing comfort among likeminded people, with Caz being of no exception to this fact, having seemingly ignored Barran's best Tri-Lunar but still having the common courtesy to pass him the hipflask first. The purple-skinned marauder was deep in focus, but still managed to finally say,'It is quite a busy day for the Mineheel Firm, Dreamer. But if it's going to be as entertaining as you say, I'll stick around.... At least - for a while anyway.', whilst in the process of automating standby orders for the Branchlurkers on his datapad.
'You won't regret this, Caz. Biggest Tri-Lunar play yet if it works out-'
Then, within moments of finding their conversational flow, several bright flashes of blinding red light lit the horizon behind them, tearing holes in reality all across the skyline beyond, and to the extent that perceptions of distance, substance and realism were already taking on what seemed to all in attendance that the planet was passing into a phase that verged on the very precipice of irrevocability. But then the black-lightning crashed, unleashing a storm that seemed to shake Temple Valley like a ragdoll, testing the very foundations the Scar Hounds' eastern prong was almost-completely reliant on. Stepping out to see what damage had been caused already, the trio on the east prong would look to the skies to find the sun on the precipice of eclipse, but eerily sustaining in it's deep-set crescent - brought to a blood-chilling standstill by the mauled, torn reality alone.
And yet, it quickly became apparent to Caz that they weren't alone either.
Tearing his gaze away from the marvel in the sky, the Tri-Lunars' beastmaster would find the apparition of something altogether more intriguing, and though this individual took the form of a youth, the spectral shadows that surrounded her suggested an agelessness that took such a form to allay the Twi'Lek's fear of Eternity's hand in all of it. And yet, it would work enough to prompt a verbal challenge to the new presence.
'YOU THERE!!!! Who are you? What brings you to this place, and at such a time as this?'
No word will articulate my presence.
No realm will tether my soul.
My only purpose is to observe.
Observe with me, or leave.
'First, allow me the simple task of unleashing my monsters - then I will observe it all with you.'
The entity turned to face him, but there were no eyes, no lips or ears to discern her origin, and as a result, no way the trio could judge her intent, her reactions - the very perception of her existence.
For all that the Tri-Lunars could see and feel emanating from the Entity, she was still no-one, nothing on almost every conceivable level of sentient perception. And yet, in seeing the slow, ominous nod as her answer to Mineheel's one and only request, all three commanders knew that Caz had been very fortunate, instantly realising that the Twi'Lek had inadvertently tried his luck at an inopportune moment; however, for reasons completely unknown to them, the Entity was feeling rather patient that day, for the nod in and of itself was ultimately affirming Caz to be safe in his promise not to keep her waiting for too long. So just before the order was given, Minehell would offer gratitude with a bow, calmly drawling,'My thanks, Nameless One.', before straightening his posture to look for his comm-link receiver. A wise choice, for none could doubt the power of the Entity in these moments, and especially not the likes of Rook and Dreamer, both completely taken aback by the sudden nature of the encounter - and in clear contrast to their purple-skinned friend.
<"Alright, it's time.... Open the cages and fall back to Mt. Sintarin. I'll join you soon.">
Metallic rattling crashed in warped echoes across the horizon, letting loose the predators within as they screeched and howled their ways out and descended on the Flesh Raider Grounds below, bearing down on the ranks of soldiers from several opposing Anti-Maw factions, with nowhere else to go but back into the very dangers that were besetting them before. A mere formality of their presence in the area, but as the Entity and her mortal acquaintances watched on, it seemed to all those on Mt. Firthwatch that such a formality would be sent by way of necessity and cruel intent with it, heralding their own part in the slaying of all who would dare oppose the Dark Lord Solipsis. Whether those below had their own ways of dispatching near-unassailable horror, or weapons enough to hold them back, was quite debatable in the early stages, but the weather-patterns and anomalies were very much swinging the surprise element in favour of the Branchlurkers by the time they sprang forth from their cages.
And now, we observe.
Observing history - as it unfolds.
Past, present, and future - all at once.
Conclusion and beginning, interweaving perfectly.
A true rarity.
Observing history - as it unfolds.
Past, present, and future - all at once.
Conclusion and beginning, interweaving perfectly.
A true rarity.
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