"Omen of Durace"
14TH POST - SCAR HOUNDS PAGE-CLAIM!!!! GET SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!!!!!!!!!!!
TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
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/DH/SH Vs. EE/EMPIRE/AC)
Kyrel Ren
Tegan Starfall
Tu'teggacha
Nyaeli
Kybo Ren
Aemulor the Hutt
Y'sanne Stradd
Keilara Kala'myr
Erion Justeene
Ronar
Runt
Khamul Kryze
Ingrid L'lerim
Victor Vel Aath
Myri Dara
Jas Katis
Lyssa Io
Nukth Kelga'an
Ara Sheridan
Zhea Nox
SHRIVEN NO MORE: FEAR THE SMOKE, FEAR THE SAVAGES - PART 14
MARKWOOD MARSHES, SPIREWATCH FOREST,
CANTHAR PROVINCE, PANATHA (EARLY-SPRING 877 ABY)
'Are you a follower of the Force or not?! Huh?! Karkin' act like it!'
The Sith Pureblood had a better idea, but in his rage, surely boiling to the surface by then, chose to be rash with his approach instead; grabbing the Goidel and the Twi'Lek by the collars of their coats and throwing them with such force the motion itself sent the pair tumbling through the air, though deftly enough that they were sent careening towards the Necromancer, leaving the rest to his rival and his Magnar as the zombies quite happily converged solely on Katis' position in response. All that Barran had time to reply with was,'YA FETHING EEJIIIIIIIIT!!!!', before being sent flying southwards without any warning perceived in the Pureblood's reply, but as Thomas reached the halfway point of their trajectory, he quickly deduced that both Ardana and himself would be landing just too short of their intended landing-spot.
The farthest-flung Scar Hound at the time would need to be the one who was boosted to achieve their goal, but much to the Bloodhound's disappointment, it wouldn't be him who would be landing the killing blow this time. However, if there was anyone the Warlord would have hoped to be a great substitute for himself in such instances, he knew that certain someone was his soon-to-be-anointed Magnar, seeing the soles of Vorco's boots and seeing the opportunity right there and then, awakening something all-together quite ancestral as Barran tapped into the decisive traits his clan were always renowned for.
'GO FOR IT, SPINDLY!!!!'
Leaning back, Thomas then pushed into the soles of Ardana's boots with the soles of his own, propelling his subordinate the rest of the way and yelling,'FOR GLORY, FOR REBIIIIIIIRTH!!!!', as he fell watching her somersaulting aggressively with spear firmly in her grips. Fearsome as she ought to have been, but as Barran noted on Ilum to himself, there was something of a specific artistry to the wild abandon Vorco threw into her efforts every time, like a thrill-seeker's calligraphy that seemed to amaze everyone both fortunate and unfortunate alike to see it in action. However, what must come up must come down, and the Bloodhound's weighty descent to the boggy, muddy ground beneath would be nothing short of impactful, but the Warlord cared little and less about the pain when he eventually thudded crash-landing to the ground.
And as long as the Necromancer was dead within moments, then there would be no undead denizens to worry about when Thomas eventually got to his feet again, and far fewer concerns to trouble his mind by the time by the time the last undead body dropped to the mud once and for all.
'UGH!!! DAMNIT!!!!'
CANTHAR PROVINCE, PANATHA (EARLY-SPRING 877 ABY)
The Bloodhound's closest advisors, closest friends and strongest guards, all rolled into five individual Darkhans, longest-served of the Tri-Lunars' greatest Marauders - all readied up within a moment of hearing Barran's voice inside their heads.
Nail and Ghoul showed up next, rushing out to the gate of their outpost in search of Rook and Dreamer, assuming their mentors would know what to do by the time they got there; and fortunately for the former drug-addict and the cyborg, Barran's first true friends in the Maw knew exactly what was being asked of them, understanding exactly what sort of resources would be needed to make the heaviest impact. First to speak up would be Nail, growling,'What do we need, who do we need, how much and how many? Lay it out for us, Dreamer.', in his replacement-larynx's usual mechanical drawl. Reloading his rotary-cannon as he listened intently, but just as he was about to finish his amble in saying,'We can take on anybody, the Bloodhound made it this way. So I'm ready for anythin-', the fifth and final member of the Darkhans showed up in continuation of his usual, fashionable levels of unpunctuality.
'Leave - logistics - to - me, as you always have.... Leave the specifics to the Dreamer, as we always have.... So my only query, ya know - in terms of specifics and such, would quite simply be - who? As in,"From whom are we expected to rescue our Matriarch, exactly?", if you need me to spell it out for you.'
'Oh, you've got to be kidding me.... Tu'teggacha? The Eldritch Demon of Exegol? SERIOUSLY?!?!?!'
Caz had every reason to be fearful, especially in consideration of the fact Mineheel Station and the firm who lorded over the place also called Exegol their home at the time, and being perfectly aware of the Taskmaster and his tribe's capabilities, the purple-skinned Twi'Lek was perfectly justified in his negative reaction. But Dreamer, unlike the other four Darkhans, remained completely unperturbed as he cut in,'So what? Given half the chance, I'd slash any one of those Shi'iDo bodyguards to ribbons with their own blades.... And seeing how you've been taking to your Falchion of late, I can only assume you should be feeling safer than the rest of us right now. You're an animal with that thing, no use in denying it either.', drawing his own and drawing in everyone's attention in the process.
'Seriously, Caz. Even putting young Ghoul here to shame these days.'
All five of the Darkhans had received a Falchion of their own before that day, all wrought and fashioned on Rhigar from a rather sizeable haul of armour and other redundant weaponry pieces found on Mar'Zambul, with all the collected pieces being made exclusively from songsteel before the Maw plundered it and left it for the Scar Hounds to sift through. From the moment he was able to walk again after Empress Teta, the Darkhans had bore witness to nought but training, forging and studying throughout the course of all their visits, with each sword's specifics guiding the visitors' rotation of visits until the fifth and final sword had been finished and cooled for appraisal - with the last of which coincidentally belonging to none other than Cazne'Kairn.
The prodigious purple-skinned Twi'Lek, husband to two and father to four, commander and chairman of the Mineheel Engineering firm.
The only one who heard what the Bloodhound intended for his five closest friends first-hand, the only one to know what the swords were for until he was given permission to inform the others, and in the days following the Twi'Lek's revelation, all five promptly left for Mar'Zambul for another rigorous training process within the walls of Camp Crucible. But as for whether the training had paid off for the Darkhans was another matter entirely, and in the face of real, frighteningly-proficient opposition, each and every last one of the five bodyguards knew exactly what sort of test they'd be facing down that night.
'Besides, knowing our Warlord.... The Matriarch's capture could be seen as justification for taking the fight to Exegol, no way of knowing yet though. However - we should be focusing on getting the Matriarch back first, don't you think?'
A deep, booming voice had roared out from beyond the gate of their outpost, bellowing from roughly twenty metres away or so, and when the Warlord's Darkhans turned around to find the source of the commotion, what they saw would come as quite the great shock to their systems. They had been told to treat the resurrected Marauders with wary reverence, and to approach at their own risk, but with what looked to be a platoon-sized contingent of them standing down the road with the confidence expected of their ilk, their very thoughts on the matter of choice and alternatives were very quickly becoming alien concepts as the Mongrel's first devoted Marauders strolled towards the gate without warning. Revealing exactly how menacing their eyes looked, the gang of resurrected Scav Kings surrounded their would-be commanders with curiosity towards Dreamer's plans in particular, waiting for the final word on how the next generation of Scar Hounds would answer such a slight.
'Welcome, brothers.... You'll like what I have in mind, rest assured. But we need to think less like warriors and more like cutthroats this time. Taking out as many as we can along the way, but quietly. Easy to attack with speedy desperation, like murderous speedy.... We need to remember we're saving our Matriarch, and by extension, our very own Warlord and the legacy of his predecessor. Kill as many as we can, sure, but mark my words, our rescue attempt succeeds tonight! Am I making myself perfectly fething clear, brothers?'
Everyone nodded in reply, everyone kept their mouths shut, everyone kept listening; the Darkhans had everyone and everything they needed to proceed, and in light of their adoption of a stealthier plan, all that remained was Dreamer's final word. And in the process of watching the chief of Darkhans gazing around him, the resurrected Scav Kings would like what they saw as they appraised the look in his eyes, just as they had when they looked into the eye of the Bloodhound just a few hours before, smiling with appreciation for the plucky deathless one as the crowd parted and followed him south.
'Alright then.... Lets move! Keep up if you can!'
TWILIGHT OF THE GODS
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/DH/SH Vs. EE/EMPIRE/AC)
Kyrel Ren
Tegan Starfall
Tu'teggacha
Nyaeli
Kybo Ren
Aemulor the Hutt
Y'sanne Stradd
Keilara Kala'myr
Erion Justeene
Ronar
Runt
Khamul Kryze
Ingrid L'lerim
Victor Vel Aath
Myri Dara
Jas Katis
Lyssa Io
Nukth Kelga'an
Ara Sheridan
Zhea Nox
SHRIVEN NO MORE: FEAR THE SMOKE, FEAR THE SAVAGES - PART 14
CANTHAR PROVINCE, PANATHA (EARLY-SPRING 877 ABY)
'Are you a follower of the Force or not?! Huh?! Karkin' act like it!'
The Sith Pureblood had a better idea, but in his rage, surely boiling to the surface by then, chose to be rash with his approach instead; grabbing the Goidel and the Twi'Lek by the collars of their coats and throwing them with such force the motion itself sent the pair tumbling through the air, though deftly enough that they were sent careening towards the Necromancer, leaving the rest to his rival and his Magnar as the zombies quite happily converged solely on Katis' position in response. All that Barran had time to reply with was,'YA FETHING EEJIIIIIIIIT!!!!', before being sent flying southwards without any warning perceived in the Pureblood's reply, but as Thomas reached the halfway point of their trajectory, he quickly deduced that both Ardana and himself would be landing just too short of their intended landing-spot.
The farthest-flung Scar Hound at the time would need to be the one who was boosted to achieve their goal, but much to the Bloodhound's disappointment, it wouldn't be him who would be landing the killing blow this time. However, if there was anyone the Warlord would have hoped to be a great substitute for himself in such instances, he knew that certain someone was his soon-to-be-anointed Magnar, seeing the soles of Vorco's boots and seeing the opportunity right there and then, awakening something all-together quite ancestral as Barran tapped into the decisive traits his clan were always renowned for.
'GO FOR IT, SPINDLY!!!!'
Leaning back, Thomas then pushed into the soles of Ardana's boots with the soles of his own, propelling his subordinate the rest of the way and yelling,'FOR GLORY, FOR REBIIIIIIIRTH!!!!', as he fell watching her somersaulting aggressively with spear firmly in her grips. Fearsome as she ought to have been, but as Barran noted on Ilum to himself, there was something of a specific artistry to the wild abandon Vorco threw into her efforts every time, like a thrill-seeker's calligraphy that seemed to amaze everyone both fortunate and unfortunate alike to see it in action. However, what must come up must come down, and the Bloodhound's weighty descent to the boggy, muddy ground beneath would be nothing short of impactful, but the Warlord cared little and less about the pain when he eventually thudded crash-landing to the ground.
And as long as the Necromancer was dead within moments, then there would be no undead denizens to worry about when Thomas eventually got to his feet again, and far fewer concerns to trouble his mind by the time by the time the last undead body dropped to the mud once and for all.
'UGH!!! DAMNIT!!!!'
~=DARKHANS, THE MATRIARCH HAS BEEN CAPTURED!!!! BRING HER BACK TO US - BRING HER HOME TO MAR'ZAMBUL!!!!=~
SHRIVEN NO MORE: FIVE FALCHIONS, FIVE FORCES OF NATURE - PART 1
MARKWOOD MARSHES, SPIREWATCH FOREST,
SHRIVEN NO MORE: FIVE FALCHIONS, FIVE FORCES OF NATURE - PART 1
CANTHAR PROVINCE, PANATHA (EARLY-SPRING 877 ABY)
'YOU HEAR THAT, DREAMER?!?!?!'
The Bloodhound's closest advisors, closest friends and strongest guards, all rolled into five individual Darkhans, longest-served of the Tri-Lunars' greatest Marauders - all readied up within a moment of hearing Barran's voice inside their heads.
'WE ALL DID!!!! AND WE'VE GOT COORDINATES TO INVESTIGATE, SO NO TURNING BACK NOW!!!!'
Nail and Ghoul showed up next, rushing out to the gate of their outpost in search of Rook and Dreamer, assuming their mentors would know what to do by the time they got there; and fortunately for the former drug-addict and the cyborg, Barran's first true friends in the Maw knew exactly what was being asked of them, understanding exactly what sort of resources would be needed to make the heaviest impact. First to speak up would be Nail, growling,'What do we need, who do we need, how much and how many? Lay it out for us, Dreamer.', in his replacement-larynx's usual mechanical drawl. Reloading his rotary-cannon as he listened intently, but just as he was about to finish his amble in saying,'We can take on anybody, the Bloodhound made it this way. So I'm ready for anythin-', the fifth and final member of the Darkhans showed up in continuation of his usual, fashionable levels of unpunctuality.
'Leave - logistics - to - me, as you always have.... Leave the specifics to the Dreamer, as we always have.... So my only query, ya know - in terms of specifics and such, would quite simply be - who? As in,"From whom are we expected to rescue our Matriarch, exactly?", if you need me to spell it out for you.'
~=Beware, my brothers.... The Secret War has finally begun.=~
~=You venture out today in conflict with the denizens of Tu'teggacha!=~
~=You venture out today in conflict with the denizens of Tu'teggacha!=~
'Oh, you've got to be kidding me.... Tu'teggacha? The Eldritch Demon of Exegol? SERIOUSLY?!?!?!'
Caz had every reason to be fearful, especially in consideration of the fact Mineheel Station and the firm who lorded over the place also called Exegol their home at the time, and being perfectly aware of the Taskmaster and his tribe's capabilities, the purple-skinned Twi'Lek was perfectly justified in his negative reaction. But Dreamer, unlike the other four Darkhans, remained completely unperturbed as he cut in,'So what? Given half the chance, I'd slash any one of those Shi'iDo bodyguards to ribbons with their own blades.... And seeing how you've been taking to your Falchion of late, I can only assume you should be feeling safer than the rest of us right now. You're an animal with that thing, no use in denying it either.', drawing his own and drawing in everyone's attention in the process.
'Seriously, Caz. Even putting young Ghoul here to shame these days.'
All five of the Darkhans had received a Falchion of their own before that day, all wrought and fashioned on Rhigar from a rather sizeable haul of armour and other redundant weaponry pieces found on Mar'Zambul, with all the collected pieces being made exclusively from songsteel before the Maw plundered it and left it for the Scar Hounds to sift through. From the moment he was able to walk again after Empress Teta, the Darkhans had bore witness to nought but training, forging and studying throughout the course of all their visits, with each sword's specifics guiding the visitors' rotation of visits until the fifth and final sword had been finished and cooled for appraisal - with the last of which coincidentally belonging to none other than Cazne'Kairn.
The prodigious purple-skinned Twi'Lek, husband to two and father to four, commander and chairman of the Mineheel Engineering firm.
The only one who heard what the Bloodhound intended for his five closest friends first-hand, the only one to know what the swords were for until he was given permission to inform the others, and in the days following the Twi'Lek's revelation, all five promptly left for Mar'Zambul for another rigorous training process within the walls of Camp Crucible. But as for whether the training had paid off for the Darkhans was another matter entirely, and in the face of real, frighteningly-proficient opposition, each and every last one of the five bodyguards knew exactly what sort of test they'd be facing down that night.
'Besides, knowing our Warlord.... The Matriarch's capture could be seen as justification for taking the fight to Exegol, no way of knowing yet though. However - we should be focusing on getting the Matriarch back first, don't you think?'
'PERFECT IDEA!!!!'
A deep, booming voice had roared out from beyond the gate of their outpost, bellowing from roughly twenty metres away or so, and when the Warlord's Darkhans turned around to find the source of the commotion, what they saw would come as quite the great shock to their systems. They had been told to treat the resurrected Marauders with wary reverence, and to approach at their own risk, but with what looked to be a platoon-sized contingent of them standing down the road with the confidence expected of their ilk, their very thoughts on the matter of choice and alternatives were very quickly becoming alien concepts as the Mongrel's first devoted Marauders strolled towards the gate without warning. Revealing exactly how menacing their eyes looked, the gang of resurrected Scav Kings surrounded their would-be commanders with curiosity towards Dreamer's plans in particular, waiting for the final word on how the next generation of Scar Hounds would answer such a slight.
'Welcome, brothers.... You'll like what I have in mind, rest assured. But we need to think less like warriors and more like cutthroats this time. Taking out as many as we can along the way, but quietly. Easy to attack with speedy desperation, like murderous speedy.... We need to remember we're saving our Matriarch, and by extension, our very own Warlord and the legacy of his predecessor. Kill as many as we can, sure, but mark my words, our rescue attempt succeeds tonight! Am I making myself perfectly fething clear, brothers?'
Everyone nodded in reply, everyone kept their mouths shut, everyone kept listening; the Darkhans had everyone and everything they needed to proceed, and in light of their adoption of a stealthier plan, all that remained was Dreamer's final word. And in the process of watching the chief of Darkhans gazing around him, the resurrected Scav Kings would like what they saw as they appraised the look in his eyes, just as they had when they looked into the eye of the Bloodhound just a few hours before, smiling with appreciation for the plucky deathless one as the crowd parted and followed him south.
'Alright then.... Lets move! Keep up if you can!'
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