1ST POST
WAR & REBIRTH
AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY
THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE
Tags:
Marlon Sularen
Max Sinn
Khamul Kryze
CLASHING SHADOWS II: BETTER THE DEVIL... - PART 1
ORBITAL SPHERE, HOVERING OVER NORTHERN POLAR AXIS,
NAJRA-VA, UNKNOWN REGIONS (SPRING 878 ABY)
Where, oh, where are the Final Dawn planning to punch out next?
I can't help but ponder-
I can't help but think they might be going in the right direction this time.
Taking a plundered, obsolete Super Star-Destroyer (dating back to the Siege of Noris on account of it's localised registration) from Mar'Zambul's shipyard with Darkhans keeping in lockstep with their leader, the Bloodhound embarked to find the one who had been
,"Helping", both his best warriors and Thomas himself against the customs of their budding marauder-culture. Embarking to seek the one who had been trying to call him away from building the wonder in his dreams, embarking to seek the one who wished to distract him from preparing for war on two fronts, Barran was far from impressed with this Marlon Sularen initially. But as Barrans are known to be, the one-eyed Woad's temperament often simmered just as quickly as it flared up, and more often than not, cooled to coherent, calmly extents by the time his outbursts ceased.
It had always been this way for Thomas, even in his years as a young, soldiering Laird of the Free-State's very own Fighting First Division.
But if they intend to veer in the wrong direction-
So help me, Rebirth. I will force them in the right direction.
No longer was the concept of Exegol-led expansion viable, or at least, not as far Barran saw it in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not whilst the bad blood continued to intensify between the denizens of Exegol and Mar'Zambul. Schismatic splits of these sorts never amounted to anything green, sunny or positive for that matter, and for as long as there were factions within yet to make up their minds on which way to turn, the safety of all involved would make for pitiful cohesion between tribes in the Maw's many wars on the Core Worlders. However, despite his clear disdain for all the Final Dawn represented, the Bloodhound knew that these differences could be set aside on the ground at the very least, and in times of bloodshed and madness, the need for the rogue-Imperial presence would no doubt become a necessity in the following years.
After all, the renegade Mawite's father was still perceived to be making Fel's Empire as militarily powerful as possible - and sometimes all it takes is a legion to nullify the strengths of another.
'You know what, Dreamer? Kark the Holo-call.... I want to talk to these individuals in person.'
With all the Five Falchions laughing in response around him, they knew what this meant, as only a Barran could carry enough sly cunning to see through lies, deception and ulterior motives of almost any sort, understanding it as their leader making a conscious decision to veer as far from error as possible. The Bloodhound was playing the beginnings of a very dangerous game, and the five Darkhans were all well-aware of what the cost of error could have caused in such times as the Second Great Hyperspace War, and in the collective desire to fulfil a new dream of the Maw, defeat was no longer an option.
Not for the Bloodhound.
Not for Mar'Zambul.
By the time Thomas reached the conference hall's entrance doors, the guards were already aware of his presence and standing to one side almost as soon as Barran was identified on approach, passing word to the speakers inside that the last attendee on the list had arrived in the exact moment they laid their hands on the doors to push them open, slightly bowing their heads in customary respect towards the one-eyed Woad. They were just soldiers after all, and the Bloodhound could neither find fault or reason to baulk in it, and to take his mind even farther from the minor gesture between tribes, the stern, unflinching stare of Sularen was the first thing Barran saw when he stepped into the dim, low-lying light of the conference room. And within a flash, within the non-existent blink of any attendee's eye, Thomas had gotten the measure of the mind - and the true measure of Marlon from within the depths of his soul.
'To all in attendance, I extend my greetings on behalf of the Scar Hounds. Reaching out exclusively to individual tribes is a bold choice in almost every capacity, an' for this, you have my undivided attention for the duration of our little meeting - regardless of the outcome.'
Resonating with a rage of which the Bloodhound found himself surprised to have known in some form already, though differing noticeably with deathless motivations which contrasted the undying nature of his own. Even through the course of the Bloodhound's greetings to the other, Marlon's eyes would unblinkingly watch the Marauder's every move, getting the measure of his counterpart's mind and demeanour alike for as long as Thomas remained in clear view. However, little did the Bloodhound know that everyone else had been studying his entrance almost every part as cautiously, almost completely unaware that his presence alone was almost entirely new to the people around him, but when Barran eventually sat down and rested his back with relatively straight posture, he thought it pertinent to at least address the host before silencing himself for the sake of the proceedings.
'Good to finally meet you in person, Lord Marlon. To what, or rather - to whom do I owe my curiosity this time?'