<Brothers, who is this guy?> Boris asked via technopathy.
<A better question would be
who does he think he is?> Bram quipped back.
Percival stared at the lizard from cover, his body splattered and smeared with mud. Only his eyes moved, turning toward one of the marines that had dispersed into the swamp. The man was only a few feet away from Percival’s concealed position.
<
They are not the petty thugs of a fringe crime lord, that’s for certain,> he told the others. <
These are trained forces. Hired mercenaries, perhaps. Here to destroy us and put an end to our little crusade.>
Bram’s mirth was palpable. <Looks like we’re officially infamous. I love it.>
Boris was more practical. <I’ll go in your place, Brother Percival. I’ll tell him I’m your rep, and see what he wants.>
<Yeah, Percy. You’re too squishy compared to us.>
<
Boris, you may go. Leave your weapons.> The ones that weren’t built into him, anyway. <
Announce yourself as my emissary. If he attacks, we will assist you.>
Out of the bubbling muck there emerged a metal skeleton with glowing green eyes. It held its empty hands up as if in surrender, slowly approaching Xeykard.
“I’m Percival Io’s emissary. Say to me what you want to say to him.”
Xeykard