4TH POST
AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY
THE_BLOODHOUND
TRIBAL-WARLORD OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
GRANDMASTER OF THE TRI-LUNAR CLIQUE
BELLIGERENTS
(BOTM Vs. GA)
Tags:
Keilara Kala'myr
Tu'teggacha
SHRIVEN NO MORE: FIVE FALCHIONS, FIVE HUNTERS - PART 4
MIRKHEART VALLEY, CAIRN DISTRICT,
NORTH OF THE BLACKSITE, EXEGOL (EARLY-WINTER OF 877 ABY)
'COME ON THEN, YOU UGLY FREAKS!!!! WE'RE READY - GIVE US YOUR WORST IF YOU CAN!!!!'
Sprinting aimlessly from the shadowy mirk beyond, the Ebruchized sprinted towards their prey with shrieks and blood-curdling screams of every sort, bearing down on the Darkhans with all the fury of Exegol driving them ever faster towards the Songsteel Falchions forged personally by the Bloodhound. Though as for whether the Marauders would prevail against Exegol's wicked abominations or not, and all they expected to follow after their malformed opposition, was still to be determined, as the Warlord's best bodyguards were only just getting started.
'They don't normally scream like this, brothers! In all three encounters I had with the Ebruchized, the screams were few and far between, and especially in comparison to this lot.... But - ya know what, WE'RE EVERY PART AS LOUD AS THEY ARE!!!! THIS IS THE WAY OF THE BLOODHOUND AFTER ALL!!!! THE WAY OF WAR, DEATH AND REBIRTH!!!!'
As the purple-skinned Twi'Lek stepped out to the front of the others as their spearhead, he sunk his blade into the dirt then threw his head back to roar his battlecry to the heavens above, unleashing a voice so loud that all the freaks within earshot would hear. Holding the volume and timbre of his roar, beating his chest in a release of primordial rage, Cazne's fury had an effect on his comrades that seemed to further-intensify the tingles, the goosebumps, and all the rushes that intensified the collective thrill of their intoxication. Then after joining their own bellowing battlecries to that of their savage-hearted friend, the poise returned just in time for the first Ebruchized freaks to lunge forth from the depths of the shadows beyond, still roaring their hearts out by the time they struck out against the ravenous abominations careening towards them.
'BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!'
To cleave, through armour, flesh and bone - this is why the Bloodhound forged these swords for his closest confidants.
And cleave they most certainly did.
Tu'teggacha's abominations, incoherent and uncontrollable though they were, moved very quickly for malformed experiments of their sort, like there was some sort of guiding force spurring them on from within. Simple though their collective purpose was in the moments, it was still a wonder to the Darkhans that such creatures were capable of such anomalous feats of strength and agility alike, but they all knew for a fact that other forces were at hand in this encounter with the red-eyed bioweapons, forces dark enough to control (and make violent marionettes of-) every last tortured wretch they would need to brutally slaughter before the end. And yet, such was life for Mawsworn warriors of the Scar Hounds, and as their Songsteel carved a bloody moat in the most unnatural shade of sanguine red, the guts, gore and the horror that erupted on all sides would test the Marauders for every second they chose to remain standing.
'Brothers! Clearing a path as best as I can, but the ground itself is level enough!'
But it wasn't all savagery and bloodlust, not whilst the sly, cunning nature was vehemently encouraged by all who considered them brethren at the time, though not half as much as they were encouraged to defy convention by the Warlord himself. Continuing
,'Rook's got me covered, but I need another moment or so to clear our way north-', before being rudely interrupted by an Ebruchized jumping up from the ground with it's body still mangled from the hacking strikes of both Rook and Ghoul alike beforehand, the youngest Darkhan was acting as living proof of their collective ability to think on their feet in these moments, slicing a clean cut through deep, widening gap from hip to navel and turning to face the next abomination that got in his way.
'This way, you smelly fething-'
The sickening crunches were all that Nail, Caz and Dreamer could hear for a moment, all regretting their inability to turn around and see who and what was the cause of the strength behind it, but Rook was much more fortunate in contrast, able to see with his glowing white eyes as Ghoul's blade cleanly cut the next Ebruchized foe in half from the top of the skull downwards. If it had been the Bloodhound in the Arkanian's place, Rook was sure the Woad would have appreciated the sight immensely, as sights like that were seen as good omens by all who knew the Forge; seen as potential for long lifespans in the grips of their wielders, as a mark of stellar workmanship on the Warlord's part, but mostly as a sign of blessing and favour from the Three Moons they revered on Rhigar.
'Thats how its done, Ghoul! NOW GIVE 'EM SOME MORE!!!!'
And for the first time ever, all four of the other Darkhans strived to obtain the same blessing that had just been bestowed upon Ghoul moments before.
'Just a moment longer.... Alright, brothers! RABID DOGS UNTIL THE SUNRISE!!!! LETS DO THIS!!!!'
Despite the fact it would've seemed senseless to others to fight on the move under such inundation of force, all five warriors understood that they were in tune enough as a collective to make it work, and though they all knew most of the process would feel like being pulled from the jaws of death time and time again, they also knew that this desperate backpedalling fight towards safety was all the plan and leeway they had at their disposal under the circumstances. However, for the Darkhans, it was enough; more than enough for the sort of fight they were still striving to endeavour despite their main objective, but they had to keep up with the fighting retreat, and without allowing each other a single moment's rest if they were to have so much as a tiny hope of making it out alive together.
''HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAURGH!!!!'
But they had a weak link, and it wouldn't take very long for them to find out who it was, and in the moment their adversity reared it's ugly head, they would need to adapt and work even harder to survive. Yet the unperturbed would fight on regardless, and without any time to think about the creeping, traumatised silence of their comrade, there would be no way of knowing the plight of the affected until fate required the others to think quickly on his behalf. Although the Five Falchions were able to see it with ease, none of the others had been quick enough to pay attention when it mattered, unaware that the very reasons for the change were staring into the glowing red eyes of the traumatised with glowing red eyes of their own in turn, snatching at blue flesh with blue flesh of their own - reaching out with a ravenous desperation reserved almost exclusively for the silent Darkhan in particular.
'UGLY FREAKS!!!! I'LL CLEAVE THROUGH EVERY LAST FETHING ONE OF YOU!!!!'
Singling out none other than Dreamer, the main mastermind behind the rescue plan - the only one who knew the way back to the landing-paddocks.
'KEEP MOVING, NAIL!!!! WE'RE NOT LOSING OUR STRONGEST CYBORG - NOT HERE, NOT TONIGHT!!!! MOVE IT!!!!'
Hollis Orenn
Miri Nimdok 
Justice Lesan
losing his arm to the Sithspawn stopped, but what came in return was perhaps far worse. These were no memories of real events anymore, but twisted perversions of their darkest days, and they always ended the same way — with a crimson blade ending the life of the man she loved. Hollis would know it was fake, but it would feel so real. The emotions, the suffering; Nyaeli made sure it felt as if these constructed memories were burned into her soul, so she would live forever in fear about them becoming reality.
