Character
The phantom moved through this place they dubbed Pergitor, it was a desolate place that reminded the phantom of his home within the Chaos of the Unknown regions. Skies of burning fire, and volcanoes that shot hot magma high into the sky, it was the most inhospitable of places but still these vermin had found a way to survive. Great domed cities dotted the landscape, confining the thousands who dubbed this hellhole their home.
It had become Vyr’athar’s hunting ground.
There was little of value to be gained from these people though, unfortunately. He had to resign himself to that fact as he dug through the mind of another unfortunate miner: metallic nails dug into his skin as the Mind’s Eye of the Grysk saw all the man knew, dug for things of intrigue and value as the prey’s body convulsed and spasmed. Once again, nothing more than meaningless clutter. Growling in annoyance, the Grysk threw him to the side as he slowly choked to death: his mind a broken, barely functional, mess of flesh. Pergitor had proven to be a poor hunting ground, so few tricks, all he had learned was empty factoids about this burning dumpster of a world.
But still...something twisted within the great folds of the force: the sinewy meat between his armored plates clenched in anticipation of what his mind sensed...another who could tap into the empheric energies of this so-called “Force”. Attracted to his murders perhaps? Or perhaps pulled her by the cruelty of fate? It mattered not, only the sweet nectar of thoughts and knowledge that laid within their skull. It was an euphoric thing for the Grysk to consider, and so he stalked like a predator in waiting: crouched on one of the many highrises of the crude and gruff buildings that made up this city, two alien eyes scanning the crowds below: he hunted, he reached into the energies around him to find his quarry.
The hunt had begun.
Kat Kenrid
It had become Vyr’athar’s hunting ground.
There was little of value to be gained from these people though, unfortunately. He had to resign himself to that fact as he dug through the mind of another unfortunate miner: metallic nails dug into his skin as the Mind’s Eye of the Grysk saw all the man knew, dug for things of intrigue and value as the prey’s body convulsed and spasmed. Once again, nothing more than meaningless clutter. Growling in annoyance, the Grysk threw him to the side as he slowly choked to death: his mind a broken, barely functional, mess of flesh. Pergitor had proven to be a poor hunting ground, so few tricks, all he had learned was empty factoids about this burning dumpster of a world.
But still...something twisted within the great folds of the force: the sinewy meat between his armored plates clenched in anticipation of what his mind sensed...another who could tap into the empheric energies of this so-called “Force”. Attracted to his murders perhaps? Or perhaps pulled her by the cruelty of fate? It mattered not, only the sweet nectar of thoughts and knowledge that laid within their skull. It was an euphoric thing for the Grysk to consider, and so he stalked like a predator in waiting: crouched on one of the many highrises of the crude and gruff buildings that made up this city, two alien eyes scanning the crowds below: he hunted, he reached into the energies around him to find his quarry.
The hunt had begun.
Kat Kenrid
