3rd post
Sirenas Boulevard, Minervina Plaza,
Cinnegar, Empress Teta (Early-875 ABY)
'SHRIVEN!!!! DIDN'T KNOW YOU WERE DEPLOYING, WHAT GIVES?!?!?!'
Definitely the Scar Hounds' rearguard, all cybernetic warriors of great power, perhaps even greater than that exerted by Barran's lot at the time, owed more in part to their experience than it was to their advanced stages of flesh-to-steel transformation. Both reasons for Thomas to behave amiably and respectfully in these moments, especially if he wished to be the one to present the other sword in his possession to the Mongrel, and in replying,
'Nothing gives, brother! Nothing but a gift from Shriven to Warlord! If we're needed though, we'll stay and help as much as we can!', with a calm, orator's exclamatory tone, this would assure their safe conduct for as long as their boots were expected to tread the Tetan soil. Pointing to the sheathed greatsword on his back, the Shriven One had then directed the Scar Hound to the specific gift he intended to present to the Mongrel in particular, seeing a change in posture that could only have been something akin to pleasant surprise, a response that was definitely an approval from a curious objective viewpoint.
'Not bad, Shriven. I'll keep you on the right track to the frontlines anyway, I know where they are.... Just try to keep up, that's all I ask.'
As he drew a Durasteel machete, the fully-fledged Scar Hound used the same blade to signal the others to follow and then sprinted off ahead with a shockingly quick start, forcing the others to throw everything into their own southward sprints in the attempt to catch up. Ghoul would manage, as would Thomas, but Rook and Dreamer would find that the other three had stopped just ahead so as not to lose them, and in remembering that the Spice had at least something to do with Ghoul's results, the Shriven One understood that normal circumstances would've kept the young upstart with his other two mentors at the back.
'Ghoul, watch your heartrate.... An' drink - water. I won't tell if you won't.'
A moment of silent tension followed, but fortunately for both Thomas and Ghoul, the latter would acquiesce in time to keep the cybernetic one from noticing what was going on, as the guide had also been paying too much attention to his surroundings to listen in to Barran's suggestion at the time, completely missing the boat for catching addiction-complications in action. There was no perceivable need for it in the field, at least not in the minds of the Scar Hound elite, though the Shriven One couldn't help but spare brief thought for how that policy would be affected under his own leadership, being somewhat enthralled enough to Spice that he had in fact brought some of his own to Empress Teta. But for Barran, such was only kept in the event there would either be cause for celebration in victory, or for wrath under severe duress - and not for any such Ghoul-esque in-between.
Drinking? We keep.... But Spice? With the unspoken disdain for human addiction?
Thomas would ponder on this as Rook and Dreamer tried to catch their breaths, complicated slightly by thinking that he would eventually have every right to decide either way, but in understanding his own will and that of the entire Scar Hound collective, Barran ultimately knew which way to turn on the matter. The Shriven One was always smarter than his brutish demeanour implied, and in the ever-nagging need to hold to his own momentum, Thomas would look to the moon and silently make his decision, resolving in his final say with all regrets thrown to the swirling winds with lasting finality.
Nah, I think I'll just kick the habit. Better example to set for Ghoul, an' for anyone else who joins us.
Silently jumping into action just moments later, the Shriven One's clique followed their guide the rest of the way to the frontlines, feeling the closeness of the air, the rising heat and the cacophony of the hostilities with each stride in their advance towards the main Mawite static-line, and with each step came intensifying senses of purpose, drive and belonging as the group drew closer to the crucible with wild abandon. Avoiding explosions, bursts of disruptor-fire and falling debris on the way, with the crucible still continuing to intensify around them as they went, the warriors at the front would begin to offer covering fire to support their drop into the trenchline between them. In the long, snaking trail of walkways and tunnels, further shelling and incendiaries would be avoided in the attempt to reach the vanguard positions, resulting in more than enough close calls before they found the loudest, most embattled segment of the attacking formation.
THE LIVING ARTEFACT: A WOAD ON EMPRESS TETA - PART 5
Koros Quarter, Inner-City,
Cinnegar, Empress Teta (Early-875 ABY)
'This is where we part ways, Shriven One. But I'll part ways with this.... You're progressing, and noticeably at that. Which means the same will probably go for the others - give them something to notice as you have with me.'
Leaving the Shriven One where he desired to be, the unidentified Scar Hound jumped up to ground level and sprinted off in a south-westerly direction, disappearing into the misty fog of war as the Koros Quarter erupted with Hellish force around him; in time, Thomas would learn his name, but for the time being, Barran had no other choice but to drop it in his attempt to prioritize the greatsword over everything else once more. As the Woad turned back to his three subordinates, he grumbled,
'Can't be helped, our Warlord shouldn't be far off from here anyway. Lets go.', leading the way as he walked closer to the thickest of the fighting. When he got there, however, Barran would find himself awestruck by a spectacle he never though he'd see in his lifetime, something so grand in scale that it would leave all four members of the Shriven One's little clique taken aback to it's breath-taking glory.
'Avatars, bear witness to these blessed beasts in action.... My goodness, they're incredible!'
Stonechewers, an entire mass of them laying waste to Duracrete, metal, bone and any rock big enough to warrant destruction along the way. A horror for Tetans and Jedi alike to behold, but it was obvious this sight was having an entirely different effect on the Scar Hounds who followed with renewed momentum, all retaining complete mastery over the ebb-and-flow of the infantry battle as it progressed. If Thomas had not been so enrapt with the monsters at his comrades' disposal, there would've been a chance to catch a glimpse of the Mongrel walking behind the Stonechewers, pacing forth with absolute confidence as if he were the monsters' very own puppeteer, such a sight truly would have been an eye-opening experience in contrast. A fitting sight to behold, a fitting beacon of strength for the Scar Hounds to see with their own eyes, walking on the gravelly remains of the monsters he followed into battle.
And with such ease that it could very well have been viewed as a moment separate from space and time itself.
'Take a good look at your Warlord, Shriven.... For that, right there, is the cycle you were resurrected to continue. So consider this your first Memento Mori, brother. The first of many.'
Of all the subordinates serving the Shriven One, only Dreamer truly understood the gravity of the situation every time, proving his worth as Barran's canary in the proverbial coal-mine, something of a rarity among other Mawites. It was in this realisation that Thomas then understood something else, his friend wanted to see the last segments of their part in the cycle, though in this revelation, the Woad could only guess and hope as he thought on how long such a warrior could last in the long run. It worried Thomas, but such a feeling would never last with considerations to what Dreamer had survived so far, and certainly not with his friend sounding more determined than ever before; Empress Teta was revealing every single change and mutation of their growth as warriors, and of what was needed to ascend even closer to greatness, but none could tell exactly how far they would go in the process.
My lord.... I think I understand now.
There was an art to and within the process, and in removing the Shriven One's complete reliance on time, place and circumstance, the Mongrel was able to singlehandedly remove any such distractions that drew the Woad away from the jaw-dropping beauty of it all. The Maw's very own living embodiment of War, in it's purest, most potent form, giving life-changing advice to his resurrected subordinate; the Scar Hounds of Rhigar would speak of each encounter between them in the following years, telling that the Galaxy trembled every time the Mongrel and the Shriven One crossed paths to speak, with their philosophical discussions being told to bear grander implications for the Galaxy than any Senatorial debate on Coruscant. Biased though these views had been, it still revealed much and more of what it did to keep war-weariness at bay, revealing much on the weight of their presence in the war from a Mawite perspective as well.
So many valuable lessons, and all as rewards for trusting the cycle as the Mongrel instructed, but the Shriven One kept watching, enjoying the view as the Stonechewers laid waste to everything they could reach. Letting the Warlord have his peace to paint a masterpiece, Barran's small clique took their helmets and gas-masks off to smoke cigarettes and relax a while, silently plotting their safest approaches for the final stretch with occasional finger-points towards decent cover and ignored flanks alike. All would join the main throng soon, but considering the importance of their task, specifically careful considerations would need to be taken, especially when the sword they brought was just minutes away from passing into the hands of their Warlord.
'When you're ready, take one step southwards. I won't act until everyone has their paths plotted.'
