The Resuspawn Toxin and the Plaguebearers of Moross

[Mercury Zealot]

Premise​

Today two the galaxies most deadly viruses from ages long past - The Technovirus, and the Vongspawn Virus - shall be mixed into one monstrous creature. Already the Resu as a race have been dominated by a major mutation onset by their Morossian God Neth, who molded the First Convert, Stone Hermes, into a sentient monstrosity of Alchemical machine and voracious creature. Unfortunately, with the advantages of this "Plague Blessing", it comes with an equal curse; the Resu cannot reproduce as the Techno-Resu. At first, it was merely agreed to put the remaining non-plagued Resu in reserves and allow them to reproduce for them, converting half the population over a course of time that the population doubles. However, an unknown plague has ravaged the "Heathen Resu", causing a rapid decline in numbers and fertility. Desperate for an answer with their gods, they have acquired from the galactic market, a strain of the Vongspawn virus taken from members of the defeated Horde. They had consulted those who are believed to be in direct communion with the other gods of the pantheon, more specifically, Lliad the God of Plagues, and they have high hopes this Plague of Flesh shall combat their Plague of Metal. They have the word of the First Convert of Neth - Stone Hermes - that the knowledge of these plagues are sound to introduce into the bodies of Resu Believers. Being the head of the Resu's faith in the Morossian Pantheon, he calms his people before engaging in the experiment.

***​

​

Stone Hermes kneels before the Altar of Lliad. This was... unnatural for him to do. It had been some time since he had last prayed for any other god but Neth. However, the graces of his knowledge had been in recent times, lacking. He granted him and his people the machinations needed to engage in communion with the gods properly. With bloodshed and sacrifice, and the endurance of adversity. Stone Hermes had been missing from the action of the crusade for quite some time now in dealing with the current crisis of his people, which has thus disabled him from his prefered form of worship through combat. He hoped that this crisis that was distracting him, did not make Neth think less of his people as servile Archists.

The libraries he had commissioned on Resu were extensive, and massive, if incomplete. Orb manufacturing had skyrocketed, as Resu scribes voiced the sacred texts of Moross with zeal and fervor. He himself had even made minor contributions. A scholar he was anything but, but adding to the knowledge of Resu was the best he could do to maintain his faith in the Overgod Neth, as he described him to his people. With knowledge he changed his body, and transcended his flesh to something more receptive of information, more capable of relaying it beyond brutal contact, and with it the knowledge of Moross. Through these tokens it was only appropriate that among all gods they should solely devote their lives to his name.

Long had their blades driven plaguemetal into the writhing resistant flesh of Heathen Relatives, civil war ravaged there moon as civil war always did. Only now could effective victory be claimed by any singular faction. Moross brought to the Resu that no other faith of faction did: Victory. For the first time in Resu history, war between Resu had effectively ended. All that was left now was mere conversion when appropriate for the continuation of the race. But the plague that granted them gifts was after all, still a plague, and was within the domain of Liad to make it a hardship to bear. Stone Hermes personally had been upset to find he had become infertile, thus effectively rendering affection dead to him. Little did he know that Liad had other plans for the Resu, than mere reservations. Stone Hermes had claimed that this new plague was a punishment on the Resu for "cheating" the adversity he had set before them in the form of Neth's gift to them.

Which brought them to where they are now.

<<First Convert, many Archivists say you believe you have found something of religious importance?>> A fellow Resu High Archivist whispered in their tongue, leaving little flashes in the dark that surrounded them, unaware to them. It was a congregation of hundreds of Techno-Resu beyond the doors of the Morossian Temple erected over a key Thermal Vent, that had once served as the Imperial Palace of the Old Imperial Confederacy.

<<Yes XVIth Convert, many Archivists are correct: I have found a thing which sprang from the Ancients of our enemies.>> He replied to XVI, still praying to the altar, as Inari had shown him how so long ago.

<<Then the rumors are true. You would bring a Heathen artifact here? Surely Liad would not be so cruel to us.>> XVI replied once more, creating certain gestures specific to the Resu's faith, that few non-Resu could pick out as being a gesture at all.

<<Liad gives and takes, what he gives and takes is his will. Liad is not Neth, he holds nothing sacred but the creation and relief of pains. Those who hold the greatest pains may worship him greatest. This "artifact" shall cause us an agony Resu have not known, but it is true to my word, in saying it is the panacea.>>

<<I do hope you are right. Who shall defend Moross if Liad would have us die? Such a betrayal to Neth would spark war against the Crusade. Thus our death is blasphemy.>>

<<I would commit no treason as that, and would force none to such devastating choice as was put upon me in the face of Neth.>>

<<I would suggest no such choice! Do not misunderstand First Convert, my life would face such treason should you do so! I meant only to remind our struggle.>>

<<You are pardoned XVIth Convert. Do you guess our new salvation?>>

<<Such a miracle is beyond me Our First>>

<<It is a seed from those who spawned the Horde, from Ancient times. It is a plague, within the nature of Liad, to change the host to those who spawned the Horde, from Ancient times. A Plague of Flesh we Hate, to combat the Plague of Metal we Love. It will make our flesh theres, and from it newborns shall once again flow freely from the loins of our women.>> The Convert was made to gasp at this revelation, both in excitement and abhorrent disgust.

<<Us and our women should be formed in the flesh of those we hate? This sicken me, but delights me to find some miracle exists to overcome our plagues. Three then, shall then be a sacred number, as it shall be with three plagues that the Resu people were liberated of lifes shackles, to the honorable service of the Pantheon. Noble Zealots are we, in monstrous form.>>

<<Aye>> Stone Hermes had then just finished the prayer and stood before the altar, and released his feet from the ground to drift upwards, in the likeness of angels in light warm air. You knew though that even among other believers, that Resu were truly more like Demons of the darkened icy waters. This did not do anything to discourage the continued image, as they were a testament to the will of Neth, who held the knowledge to make even demonic monsters kneel before the Gods and their people.

He swam for the exit of the entire temple, to be ferried to the surface, where the first experiment would take place. It would be done out of water, in the medium it had been discovered in. Stone Hermes was optimistic about the scenario.

He silently prayed.

 

[Mercury Zealot]

Some time later...​

​

Pirates, spacers, smugglers, and every ship goer that dared to still travel the few operable space lanes in the Kathol Outback near Resu, were at the mercy of an Elitist alien species that had served as the prime zealots of the Moross Crusade, involved in every armed conflict since their discovery which involved the ideals of the Crusade... and soon now, beyond the Crusade.

The same theology which had found them, changed them, and raised them as warriors seemed to be systematically crumbling with the silence or disappearances of the living Aesirs... the Gods were abandoning Exocron, Aang-Tii, and others... all the faithful of Moross. The Realm of Resu though, remained ever as faithful, under the powerful and reaching dictatorship of the First Convert, Stone Hermes. Millions of Morossian Resu walked, if he told them to walk, if he said it was the will of the gods. He enjoyed the long unattainable luxury of control over his entire warrior species, while they awaited the results of his grand experiment... which had desired subjects.

The initial experiments were a mess. They had difficulty in maintaining a healthy population of alien species they could test on, and had to learn ways of regrowing the seeds of the Vongspawn Virus, before they ran out of transmissible samples. There was, so far, a 100% fatality rate for every spacer they managed to capture alive, and untainted by their virus. Those that were already tainted, were summarily destroyed or used in other ways that only a swarm of nonliving thralls can.

They set up distress signals, and beacons of all sorts under the hopes that travelers passing through would stumble upon them. Many of them were even former Crusaders... but that had long since stopped mattering to the Beast in control... only curing the ills of his people was his concern, and a few hundred civilian disappearances was nothing, especially in this time of instability for the theocracy. Recently, the catches had been good, and a new session of experiments would begin.

Right now, Stone Hermes would be stepping onto a captured vessel to be brought to his experimentation chambers, which would some day be known as his personal Stronghold for the fortifications he would place there, and the amount of time he would spend ruling from there. Eventually, Stone Hermes would appear flanked by two of his soldiers, while a line of living prisoners would be shackled before him.

One wonders, who some of these prisoners were?

"You were right, to sssssurrender. All elssse, deeeath." The beast spoke softly, seeing nothing more before him than a handful of warm blobs of flesh which would succumb to his supervised sadistic analysis. "Stand." Stone Hermes barked at the prisoners, and a current of electricity would dance between him and his two neighboring soldiers, an act of instant communication between them, making the command to kill one of them at random the very moment one stepped out of line with his commands.

Of the six, four stood immediately. Immediately, the soldier to his right lunged forward and rammed his left tusk into the shoulder of the disobedient prisoner, rearing its head up and tearing off the limb entirely, before it raised its sword, and slammed it vertically through the humanoids body. A foot rose to clasp over the corpses face, and pushed it down into the floor to remove the bloodied durasteel blade from the torso of the body. Already, the body was beginning to see the effects of transmutation, the blood taking a silvery sheen, as wounds began to seal incorrectly with metallic cords. In half an hour, the crumpled mutilated corpse would be a pile of scraps and slag.

Would the final prisoner be standing?

[member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

It was a trap. Of course it was a trap. It’s always a trap. Even in the holovids that they all watched it was a trap. What was the percentage for actual distress beacons used for legitimate causes? Because it had to be in single figures at this point.

They hadn’t even been in it for nefarious reasons! Well, okay, not entirely selfless reasons either but not to the detriment of others! They would have swooped in, a crew of motley comedy space junkies, saved the day and felt like big damn heroes for just a moment or two, letting the gratitude flow through their veins like sweet Mother Spice. Might have even got a reward.

But no, it was a trap and their new prize came in the form of shackles.

They weren’t fearless and noble fighters of the galaxy, nor were they villainous entities consumed with a violent thirst for personal gain. Just a bunch of pals, roaming from planet-to-planet conquering any parties that they could find.

So naturally the most of them were scared.

Indis piloted their ship. A blue male twi’lek with a greater love for drug of sex than any actual narcotic, it was for the best that their generally sober crew member was in charge of the ship. A species familiar with chains, he kept quiet, eyes downcast at the floor as if he would suddenly melt through it and escape. Indis was a good guy, kept an eye on everybody and made comfort food when they had overdone it.

The cowering Trandoshan was Crash, who despite his species reputation was the first person to disappear when trouble reared its head. He had held no wishes to be a mercenary, bounty hunter or a slaver, so he had ended up on the good ship hedonistic in good if not rather suspect company. Never hesitated to share what he was holding either, a truly top lizard.

One of the two humans that sat there was known as ‘Big Ham’, nobody actually knew his real name but nobody had cared to ask. His jaw strutted back and forth, pupils the size of moons, sweat beading on the forehead. Big Ham was still off of his tits on a cocktail of powerful uppers. Kiber was concerned about him in this situation, as if he could feel all the energy building up within the man, ready to pop.

The Bothan whose fur stood on end was Karva, the only female in this crew. Partied harder than all of the boys but then usually ended up on a come down that lasted for days, in which she was bed-ridden consuming nothing but McYoda’s. She was chill as feth and subverted any gender stereotypes by often having the least sense out of all of them on a night out, even Big Ham paled in comparison to her bad ideas.

Then there was the standard-bearer for trouble. Ali the Zeltron. He probably hadn’t been kicked off of the ship due to his know-how of the party scenes of the galaxy. It was frankly astounding how he never failed to find a shindig or hootenanny (especially in the company of people using words like ‘shindig’ and ‘hootenanny’). He was also a man of aggression, he never failed to get in a fight over the most inane subjects. Ali once had a bust up over craft juma juice.

Last but not least was Kiber Dorn. The man with greatness in his veins who chose to pretend he was in his mid-twenties forever, like some perpetual drugged-up man child. The weight of expectation from his life was too much. Sith prodigy? Just relax, eh? I just wanna live, man. The very definition of galactic waster. However, at the least Kiber was rather calm given the situation.

He had a knack for surviving.

Having not ever witnessed the beasts that stood before them, most of the group were steeped in terror. Even Kiber had to remark inwardly that he had never seen such creatures before, it was a cause for definite concern. Although most of his life to this point had been that.

When told to stand, most didn’t hesitate. Crash however, seemed to be too petrified to move and Ali just stubborn, emerald eyes burning with an indignant fury. Dorn wished for nothing more than to wrench the man up and inform him that this situation was slightly different than standing up to ‘corrupt snouts, man’. Gamorrean bouncers were clearly a different cup of tea compared to these monstrosities.

Too late for that however.

There was an array of screams and shouts as soon as Ali was gored and torn asunder, Kiber, standing next to the Zeltron looked on in silent horror, memories of the Primeval flooding back into his head. Crash practically jumped to his feet in an instant. Karva screamed for them to stop, but there was little they could actually do.

Instant brutality.

Dorn edged a glance at Ali’s body, a shimmer of silver alerting his green gaze to something beyond the ordinary. Did Zeltrons bleed silver?

“...we...we got credits...an’ some spice...you y-y-you can….take..” Big Ham whimpered, his sense of the situation likely being overwhelmed by the amount of amphetamines coursing through his system, the man could barely stand still, he twitched like a tweaker on death’s door, fingers roving all at once, jaw going into hyperdrive.

How were they getting out of this one?

---

[member="Stone Hermes"]

 

[Mercury Zealot]

The alien abomination paid no heed to their words.

Another electric arc connected between him and his soldiers, commanding them to take positions behind the now standing prisoners. As they moved with their lumbering feet clacking against the metal floor, Stone Hermes leveled his blade up and swung it slowly through the air until it pointed towards the airlock which connected the two ships. They could have just as easily disable the ship without one of their own, being invulnerable to vacuum, but contrary to their instincts, they were trying to capture their targets alive (mostly), and thus necessitated a more "traditional" boarding action.

Otherwise they would all have been killed by a vented atmosphere.

"Marcccch." The command was issued, and in case for whatever reason they had not recognized the authority of his species penchant for instant brutality, the soldiers behind the prisoners took a step forward to goad them into movement... or to be trampled by subsequent steps. There was little doubt now that the motley crew would obey, knowing the price of failure in vivid detail, and with no known means of escape. It was hard to run away from an enemy in a circular room, or in this case, a spaceship with only so much room to run.

They would all enter a Resu-Class Freighter, which while classified as a freighter, was much larger than was typical to make accommodations for these four to six meter long anthropomorphic-metal-space-eels-from-hell. The space which was relegated to maintaining the typical atmospheric conditions of most galactic species wasn't exactly roomy, but at least the prisoners would be able to breathe on their way to his laboratories. Once they entered, the airlock detached from their old ship, sending out a distress signal like all the other space junk in the Realm of Resu. They could all kiss their old lives good bye, they were as alive as walking corpses.

Stone Hermes and the other Morossian Resu seemed to stand without care for the prisoners. They had them on board now, all they would have to be careful of now was to avoid touching them, as doing so would alter them prematurely. Their experiments demanded they were not tainted by the technovirus until after they received their treatment. So, if one of them was foolish enough to try to attack them in any capacity, and somehow got infected... well, they would be useless to them. Something that was useless, did not deserve to exist.

It would take a short bit of time before they would arrive at the "research center" on Shikyu.

[member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

[OOC: Sorry for the late post, laptop died and had to get a replacement computer. Should be all good now.]


There wasn’t much room to maneuver, both physically and verbally. Usually in such a situation Kiber would have been armed with his wit and swagger but unfortunately these...creatures didn’t seem to be the type that would be swayed by such methods. Although then again, most things in the galaxy had a distinct immunity to the powers of the cheeky chappy.

So march it was.

Maybe it would give them some time to figure out some kind of motive, or at least give Dorn some time, he doubted the rest of them would see beyond their own fear in this matter.

It was funny really, he’d spent so much time in the company of the extraordinary and morally bankrupt individual that he had become accustomed to being the hapless coward in any and all situations and well, now, amongst thieves and junkies he was the level head. It wasn’t really a scenario that Kiber was keen on, he prefered his cowardice.

Despite his own Force abilities atrophying through disuse, he could feel Big Ham’s skittish aura practically reverberating. He was like an unlit firework thrown onto the bonfire, nobody knew when he was going to explode but it was definitely the likely outcome.

The hope was still there for a squib.

Karva and Crash kept their heads low, feet shuffling along in the direction they were prompted while Indis quietly observed their new surroundings. Kiber had his eyes trained squarely on the back of Big Ham’s head, who was still feverishly twitching and looking around for some method of escape. Who knows, maybe the vacuum of space was preferable.

Then it came.

Big Ham broke the march, attempting to break into a run (well, as much as the shackles would allow). Nobody followed suit, but then again, nobody was quite so off-their-tits on drugs either. As ignoble as it was, not a single one of them tried to call after their friend. They didn’t want to share any consequence of the man’s actions.


[member="Stone Hermes"]

 

[Mercury Zealot]

(OOC: Now it's my turn to apologize for the late post )

Typically, when a prey animal ran it was to get away. That was not the case for Big Ham. There was no away here, there was no where to run, no where to hide. It was fairly clear to the rest of the prisoners they were surely and truly trapped. At least until they could arrive wherever it was they being ferried to.

No, this was not the typical prey animal, because prey animals had the instincts to survive. This animal, had no instincts. Or at least, impaired instincts. When threatened, it simply ran. It thought nothing of where it would go, or where it was running to, simply that he felt the need to run. So naturally, the predator with all the power in the room did not see any reason to hunt the prey. The hunt had already ended. Soon enough, the animal would realize with its running...

... that it would stop.

"Cease." Stone Hermes barked. Seemingly annoyed as the animal ran, his talons reached for what appeared to be a spherical orb of crystallized material. With a menace in each step, the alien monstrosity strode past the prisoners in the direction where Big Ham was no doubt realizing was trapped in a dead end corner. Did they fear they would lose another compatriot?

They would be saved of that horror. For this day at least.

As the human animal no doubt trembled, Stone Hermes rose the orb just so, before swiping across the humans head. The orb let out a zap as it made contact. The whole motion was intended to incapacitate, not to kill. Whether or not that took a single hit (likely), or multiple considering its already impaired state resisting the pain.

Oh, and for those not familiar with Resu literature, Stone Hermes just smacked Big Ham upside the head with what amounted to the Morossian Resu's Bible.

Once the situation was resolved, the ship landed at the facility, then a pair of Resu grasped multiple humanoid lifesuits and tossed them at the prisoners. There was enough for all of them and then some, but before they could think to protest the guards immediately turned and began to operate the door that would open it.

Most probably into vacuum. It is advized all prisoners have life suits on before the door is opened.

[member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Kiber could only observe, helpless in his cowardice as his spiced-up friend fled straight into a corner. Emerald eyes could only observe Big Ham, less a man and more animal as his features twisted with terror that was absolute. Internally he urged for the big man to calm down, and just stop his madness but it didn't seem to reach him.

Thankfully he did not suffer the same fate as Ali. At least not yet.

It wasn't the first time that Big Ham had been clattered in the head for behaving like an idiot. Only, nobody was laughing in this scenario. Whatever the creature had clocked him with had done the trick however, pacifying the man for the time being.

What was that orb?

The march resumed, as Dorn was left with another question that would likely go without answers. Peculiar orbs were pretty low priority when stood next to all the questions of why, why and why. Likely the question on everybody's minds, well, except Big Ham but the inside of his mind was probably a pretty chaotic place to be at that moment in time.

When they were presented with the lifesuits the implication was pretty obvious and so all of them were quite prompt in their silent instruction...

...well...except one.

Big Ham.

He just stood there like a fething vegetable. One of the creatures began to open the door, signalling that there would be no mercy in the face of refusal. The man was lucky enough that they hadn't killed him already.

“Put it on, Ham,” came the serious tone of Indis, the twi'lek's voice muffled through the suit, his lekku jammed uncomfortably in, causing bulges in the material.

“...I....dun...w-wanna....wanna...die...”

“Then put it on. Trust me.”

His refusal was met with action, this time on the twi'lek's behalf, as he grabbed the half-man, half-narcotic creation and tried to physically stuff him into the lifesuit. Karva stepped into help, but Kiber and Crash remained passive observers. Mercifully Big Ham didn't actually put up any resistance, and the pair managed to prevent his death.

“Please, calm down, Ham. It'll be okay,” the Bothan spoke, voice quiet and tender, wavering with fear and betraying her words.

Kiber Dorn grimaced.

---

[member="Stone Hermes"]

 

[Mercury Zealot]

Stone Hermes was pleased to notice all specimens were alive once the airlock opened completely, exposing them all to the harsh near-vacuum of the icy surface of Shikyu. Ahead of them there was a short fortress of defensive turrets and physical defensive barrier dome, buzzing with what was likely an electrical energy field encapsulating the compound. The guards moved the prisoners along, to be in the center of the escort. Fleeing would not be an option for the stupid... not unless they wanted to scar their friends as to what happens to a body when it is decapitated in low-gravity open vacuum. Eventually, the entourage arrived at a terminal gate.

Stone Hermes pointed a long clawed finger to the terminal and exchanged a small electrical discharge, that a second later opened a door with a subsequent discharge seemingly informing Stone Hermes he may pass into the gate. The tunnel into the compound was relatively short, and the prisoners would be corralled to the center of a circular room. The prisoners would not have the benefit of lighting, except for the occasional electrical discharge exchanged between Resu for communication. Usually small chatter, sometimes commands, or verification. Suddenly, the ground would lurch downwards as the elevator brought them deeper into the surface of the moon. They would travel this way for some time, in near-darkness, while their feet vibrated beneath them as the elevator rumbled its way deeper into an icy hell.

Without notice, the elevator would abruptly stop. A light would come on just above another gate terminal, eerily red and strangely hot (or at least it would be if not for the vacuum). The first gate opened to reveal this to be a true airlock. Stone Hermes walked in first, as the guards pushed the prisoners in, leaving them alone with Stone Hermes in the air lock, as they turned around back onto the elevator platform. Their purpose had been served. Suddenly, the airlock door behind the prisoners would slam shut, felt in their feet. Red lights would come on again as jets of oxygen and nitrogen began to flood the cramped quarters. All the while the monster in the room just looked down upon the creatures without eyes, and seemed to sneer with its bared metallic teeth. A number of minutes would pass of this awkward silence while the air filled the room.

"You are permitted to breeeeath." Stone Hermes hissed, as he turned around to activate the second terminal. The door opened, and a scream would be the first thing they hear. A second scream would quickly be silenced as a door shuts behind a Resu scientist entering a testing chamber. The room was usually hot with its red lighting, and far more humid than most would enjoy. A new pair of guards appeared on either side of the prisoners. Both of the guards seemed to have some sort of flexible plastic covering their arms, and their hands carried a number of collars. They immediately began to attempt to put the collars on the prisoner once their lifesuits were disposed of.

[member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Well, nobody succumbed to the opening of the airlock. That was a plus.

As they were lead across the harsh surface of the unknown Kiber was very well aware of a knot growing within the pit of his gut. Fear? Or guilt? The aspect of fear was understandable, the situation they were in wasn't typically great, actually, it was pretty terrifying and the man wasn't entirely sure what stood at the end of it. Well, actually he was...

...and that was the problem.

Guilt however also lurked. He'd stayed the silent observer throughout most of this ordeal so far. Was he supposed to fight on behalf of his friends? Oh yeah, sure, he was a moderately trained Force user but always so exceptionally lazy and now as a result of that, completely out of practice. What, was he supposed to take these monsters down? Even with that aside, he didn't offer much to his friends in the way of comfort and morale. Would he abandon them if he had the chance?

Probably.

After their brief surface adventure the group came to an elevator, quite possibly the longest elevator ride of all of their respective lives, and with none of the royalty-free jazz to add niche comfort. They all stood in silence, Indis and Karva keeping their eyes (within the darkness) upon Big Ham, Crash with his eyes upon the floor. Kiber however just stared at what seemed to be the leader of this group in the brief flashes of light, trying to fathom both its biology and its existence.

What were they? What did they want?

Brought through more doors, and after greeting a new airlock they were permitted to breathe, although no breath of relief could be garnered as they were greeted with an immediate scream from within the compound. The group's collective eyes went to Big Ham expecting the man to bolt and then be cut down, but the human remained static, scared stiff and on the brink of pissing himself.

The suits came off, but they were offered with the option of different attire in its stead. Offered and attire being optional words in this situation. Collars.

Slavery? Was that it?

Karva looked to him, eyes screaming for him to do something, as if he could. Emerald eyes could only stare back helpless, guilt reflecting back at the Bothan. What was he supposed to do? Why are you expecting anything from me? What can I do?!

“Get the feth away from me with those!”

Indis' voice broke the silence. The blue Twi'lek getting a little too close with his past. Ryloth. Spice mines. Chains. Slavers. Usually a level head in these situations but Kiber was sure that he could be granted a pass here, even if the pained expression upon the outburst said otherwise.

“Nah, NAH, MAN! GET THE FETH AWAY FROM ME!”

Fists were raised as the pilot backed away from the creatures. Feral fear struck in his gaze, switching between the guards and the other monstrosity that escorted them. It wasn't a fight he would win, this much was known.

“W-what do you want?” Kiber finally spoke, meekly accepting his collar while trying oh-so-meekly to distract from his friend's outburst. As if it might have helped.

---

[member="Stone Hermes"]