The great bronze doors slowly swung open, a loud metallic clanking could be heard from the other side. The guards, stoic as ever made no indication of noticing the door's movement or the three beings passing between them. Beyond the doors, a great stone chamber, a great lantern hanging from the top. Glass jars hung from the struts that stretched out from the center, thousands of glowing green-blue lights pulsing slowly within them. A long carpet, worn in many place, the red dye faded to a rusty brown in some places, like something from a fantasy holo, ran all the way up to a set of three steps, and onto a platform, upon which sat two thrones. Only one sat occupied, the patinated bronze thrones flanked on either side by a dozen guards. The best equipped from anyone they'd seen so far. Decorative in appearance, dull grey metal adorned with darker etchings covered the men from head to toe, helmets covering their faces. In their hands were what appeared to be swords, covered in runes and etchings as well.
The man in the throne leaned forward from his reclined position, the only thing distinguishing him from his vanguard was the lack of a helmet, instead replaced with a crown of fangs. When Dax stopped at the foot of the dais, the woman continued to throne, standing beside it. "Patera" she greeted the lord. Ignoring the woman, the man stood to his full height. While he easily dwarfed Dax, he was likely only a fraction of an inch taller than [member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] without his crown. Scars covered his exposed arms, trophies from countless battles.
"So, you two are the ones I've been told descended from above the storms and slaughtered my men." his voice rumbled, a deep low tone, hinting at unspoken threats.
"Well...they did try to kill us first." the Rogue said, careful to make his voice seem as least hostile as possible. As much as Dax was certain the duo could handle whatever was thrown at them, he wasn't quite willing to fend off an entire city.
---
The metallic spheres exploded as they approached. The one that had struck Anya, delayed slightly, burst with a purple light, a net weaved of the light casting its grip over her, pinning her to ground, despite her already being passed out by the impact. The one that had barely 'missed' Yula exploded just as it would've passed her, the net barely catching her in its grip. Her saber would be unable to cut it, small singes and burns marring any cloth and skin it contacted. Not unbearably painful, but a testament to the pure electricity which the nets were made of.
Regardless of whether or not the nets fully entrapped Yula, the natives charged forward, intent on taking the two beings as trophies. War cries filled the air as they rushed, weapons poised to strike if needed.
[member="Anya Loma"], [member="Yula Knezevic"]
