DeviousMe

"Copy that, Allen. Deploying second wave."

I listened to myself say that - with what confidence, ease, and directness I had just spoken those words.

Yeah...easier said than done.

"Claw forming at green, theta nine nine, phi seven two." the latest report reached me, "Squad at red, theta six four, phi eight one is assuming wall formation. They're recovering, Sir."

I nodded silently. The shock effect of our appearance had faded. The Concile divisions were re-forming their broken lines, the cordon around the planet reestablishing slowly but surely.

We had their casualty reports: almost six percent destroyed, more than forty damaged so heavily they hung disabled in orbit, and another eight or so unwilling to return to the fight.

They'd face execution for that. It was high treason...and they knew it. But they'd rather flee into the cosmos from the Concile's hunters than tangle with us again.

I smiled to myself. We finally had a weapon greater than the Concile's best: fear. I chuckled in thought at the irony of it all. We wanted to help - yet our only mode of success was to sew pure, unbridled, unrelenting panic.

Still, there was a drop of hope. Our biopositronic mainframes meticulously catalogued every escapee. They would hide in the underground, seeking to make it impossible for the Concile's chasers to find them.

Of course, they would eventually. But that was another subject entirely.

We were the underground.

We would find them first - and then we'd have a talk.

If we survived today.

Percentages meant little when the enemy outnumbered you fifty to one. Once they coordinated and mounted an actually organized defense, we'd be in deep trouble.

"Contact - red, theta one eight zero, phi one one zero." I was informed, "Make that multiple. Enemy reinforcements emerging from linear maneuver, closing fast."

Predictable - but dangerous nonetheless. It was time to get serious.

"All crew full battlestations!" I ordered firmly, already turning toward the now-empty helmsman's seat, "We are entering direct combat."

Everyone knew what this meant. The Gunship's biopositronic brain could operate independently of any crew. It could fly, maneuver, control fire, and just about anything else in between.

However, it could not feel. It couldn't see the streams of the cosmos, couldn't hear the silent songs of the stars, and couldn't touch something in nothing.

Something we pilots could.

People generally believed space to be an airless expanse devoid of just about everything. A pilot would disagree.

Every time.

I threw myself into the heavy chair, thick restraint bands snapping over my body at the touch of a sensor plate. The rest of the crew were similarly strapped into their positions, in the ever-possible case of some gravos making it through the compensators, though their chairs had the ability to rotate.

I had to be completely immobile - or at least my body had to be.

Metal bands locked across my wrists, sensor plates making contact with the hide of my hands, sensing everything from metabolic chemical processes to neural activity.

I closed my eyes as the metallic SERT-cap surrounded my head, and then my world faded to black.

It didn't stay black for long.

The stars twinkled all about me, their tiny lights so endlessly far away, but so close I could almost touch them.

Below me loomed the gray-green sphere of the planet; all about me, detonations and silent thunder.

I now was the ship.

And the ship was me.

The simultan emotio reflex transmission allowed my mind to become every aspect of the Gunship. Organic intelligence and cold machine had formed a single being.

All over 'my' sensors flashed the detection signals of the enemy, their positions so many and varied I had trouble keeping track of them all.

Alright, suckers...

I could feel the roar of the engines, sense every twist and turn, no matter how minute. The reactors and my heart now beat as one.

You want a fight? Bring it!

And I shot toward the planet.

There seemed only one direction now.

Ahead...

((Dur? But we just had breakfast. Oh well, I don't mind if this thing's alive again. ))

[ QUOTE ]
"Lights out. 10 minutes!" came a deep voiced announcement over the intercom.

[/ QUOTE ]
"I'd better make this quick then." Hotaka continued to the guard who obviously wasn't a guard, "Now, as I know my students, you're planning to...hmmm..."

It took him a moment to think, but then he went on with a wry smile, "Scale the walls after dark, use the ID keycard you already stole to get inside, and replace prison staff as you see fit. Once in position, the bomb at the prison power station will go off, plunging this place into darkness - and while the heavily armed guards rush out to defend the power station from a few straw puppets, you come in, eat through the doors with acid, and get me out of here."

The man outside just stood silently as Hotaka finished with, "Oh, am I that cold?"

"Iiya, sensei." the man sighed, obviously hoping for another description, "We had assumed they discovered you. Shipped off to MAGI, you know."

"Hmyes." Hotaka exhaled slowly, "They would, wouldn't they? At some point, I should really explain a few things to these morons. But anyway...no. Just no. The time is not yet right."

"What do you mean, sensei?"

"Well, you know me. If there's a lesson that needs teaching, my nature commands me to do so."

"Hai. And?"

"Well, there's a fellow in here by the name of Raiken. Terrible man. I feel it is my responsibility to teach him otherwise."

"If he refuses?"

"Then there will be one less terrible man alive here."

"I understand, sensei. But you are taking a great risk. Are you certain?"

"Yes, I know. But...I just can't do otherwise. Like the Crane must fish..."

"The Dragon must teach." the man nodded solemnly, closing his eyes for a moment. He knew he'd lost the argument, "Very well, I shall inform the others."

"Do make sure they listen this time around." Hotaka added firmly, for the first time moving his head to actually look at the man, "I strongly recall whenever I tell you not to do something, someone goes ahead and pokes everyone into doing it anyway."

The man smiled innocently, chuckling a bit, "Sensei, we are but human. Peer pressure. We cannot help it."

Ryuu sighed, turning his gaze towards the floor again in defeat, "Yes, it seems that lesson is even beyond me to teach. I suppose some things you just have to lean for yourselves."

"There, there, sensei. I shall do my best to convince them."

"Well, I guess I can't ask for more than that. Go then, Waziri."

"Hai, sensei." the man said his goodbyes, and was gone just as quickly, "The Dragon is wise."

A few moments later, the familiar, "Two coming out." echoed from the entryway.

"I really wish they'd stop saying that." Hotaka commented, stretching his arms...

They said when one hits the surface of a planet in a drop pod, it feels like someone tearing out one's internal organs through one's feet, starting with leg bones and slowly moving up to the brain.

It was a lie.

One concocted to make one feel more at ease.

The reality was much worse.

I hardly had two senses to go on as the heavily armored canopy snapped open above me, the noise of crackling fire and thundering energy rifles echoing all around me.

For s short time, my body ran solely on instinct, my mind not capable of forming a single conscious thought with any manner of coherence. I loosely perceived one hand reaching for my rifle, the other going for the edge of the cockpit-like drop pod, and then my arm yanked my body from the force-compensating seat and out of the vehicle.

The characteristic echo of my combi rifle's paralyzer unction droned into my ears several times, a mixture of ballistic gunshot and bestial hiss. By the gargling sounds coming from ahead, I knew I had struck true, my targets' nervous systems temporarily relieved of duty by the paralyzer shocks.

My vision now finally reached a coherent and comprehensive mind. Through the visor of my suit, I surveyed the area around the impact site of my drop pod. We'd landed almost exactly where I'd planned: a bunker complex containing an anti-orbital defense array.

My pod had rammed through the ceiling, an the edges of the hole brimmed of jagged, molten-and-resolidified metal, the bunker I'd punched through to an utter wasteland of rubble and debris.

I proceeded swiftly and silently, linking up with other troopers of my unit as I moved. Our paralyzers rang out again and again, striking down whoever got in our way. Through the thick walls of the complex echoed dully the cacophony of heavy impulse blaster fire. Apparently, the robotic division of this complex was already being cleaved into by our own mechanoids.

The blast door to the command center crumpled like tissue paper under the influence of a gravity beam, and in we were, the command staff down for the count before they could even give off a shot.

My armored hand cleaved deep into the central console, got a hold of something, and tore a vital series of modules from the system.

"Fang here." I spoke into my communicator, relaying a coded, chopped, and raffed message back to the Gunships. I smirked as I looked at the twisted relay nodes in my hand, "System has been 'disabled'."

"Copy that, Allen." Kerat's voice came back, "Deploying second wave."

I threw the crushed relays to the floor with force, guiding my steps to the exit once more. This position wouldn't be operable for a long, long time...

((Yeah, was a while back. Someone attacked the office building with a rocket launcher. We never did find out why. ))

The large leather office chair slowly turned as Howard Tharmoar spun his view from his LCD monitor to the windows of his office, his hands folded in front of his face, the man in deep thought. The sunrise was bright, cheery, and beautiful; the man watching it lost in a sea of tumult.

The damage from the terrorist attack had been repaired quickly, the company's construction division (one of Tharomar's most prided branches) having reconstructed almost every bit of damaged building in just this one night. Howard could be proud of their efforts.

Still, this had been a major setback. Project Forecast was on hold until further notice, and the terrorists still had not been caught. Development went on as scheduled, of course, just the rocket had been placed on lockdown for now, and it'd likely stay that way until the men who'd attempted the assassination had been found.

Well, not yet.

Tharomar caught himself smirking at the thought of what would happen when Omaro Vasquez got a hold of them.

Not if - when. The man was good, his methods better, and his execution of orders downright best. He and his men were most certainly worth their salary.

"I'd like a current report of any further setbacks caused by last night's incident." Tharomar requested of his secretary via the speakerphone, "Please make sure every division's head submits a detailed report on any shortcomings they may have suffered. We don't want things to slow down too much..."

((I'd be happy to restart this sometime. Only hitch I've got is that Nij said he had a story planned, and hasn't posted on the boards at all since that last one he made here. However, if enough of yalls want to go ahead with his, tell me and I'll get the ball rolling again.))

((Feh...well either way, there's always the RP Boards OOC Thread, where general nonsense rules the land and the planning of planned plans is planned...or something to that nature. ))

The guard accompanied by Lloyd didn't take long to make his way down the cellblock, his eyes surveying the area quite covertly, as if he was looking for something without wanting anyone else to know.

Finally, it seemed he was successful, stepping to the cell door of Torroes and Hotaka.

"Wise man say it is not wise to cage the Dragon." he spoke softly through the bars of the reinforced door's viewing window.

"Ah, but patience is a virtue." Hotaka responded with a generous smile, "I do hope you didn't kill anyone to make them let you in?"

"Iiya, sensei - though I felt reason to. He was not treating his companion well at all..."

((Well, I'm still waiting for someone to notice the supicious guard and the dog. ))

((I would, but I'd need to get Hotaka to 20 for his 2nd costume slot. Since I ported him over to Pinnacle, I haven't played him much, so he's only 4 or so. ))

((Hm, was hoping for more from Quickblade, but okay...been about a week now. ))

Vyachslav followed on foot, snaking his way through the forest in a somewhat unwieldy manner at times, but made progress nevertheless.

Small Toy and the machine-looking alien would probably get to Toy and the others quite soon, and to anyone not familiar with Vyachslav, it may well have appeared that the drone's mission had been to go build another mechanoid instead of bringing someone here...

--------------------

Hearing his plasa grenade detonate, probably vaporizing anything in a two-meter radius, Thysthe was sure to have destroyed his opponent.

With this feeling, however, came another.

Uncertainty.

Why had he just done that?

He may have been a bounty hunter, but even he didn't just start shooting people...most of the time.

With Amora out of view, the seething anger had all butevaporated, leaving him free to think clearly again.

What had he just done...?

Strike with the sun to your rear to deny the enemy full view of your force.

We took it a step further.

We came directly from the sun.

Six light minutes from the target, we dropped back into normal space with near-luminal velocity, our small fleet of small ships appearing like phantoms.

Four 250-meter Gunships composed our core, a few dozen fighter craft our support. Slipping into the system in freefall, all engines offline to strengthen our stealth capabilities, we proceeded to assess the enemy forces.

Sensors brought back immediate reports of whole fleet divisions around the gray-green sphere that was our target, the second planet of the large orange sun. The 1500-meter spheres of the feared Concile SVE ships hung in high orbit like electrons in an atom, their hulls of formstabilized energy giving off a bronze-gold hue as they moved to and fro.

Among them lingered several more types, from narrow, rod-like vessels to massive ellipsoids. Mercenaries, servants, and general henchmen of the Concile, seeking only to garner favor by furthering their cause. The Concile's heads, however, weren't stupid - only true believers in their 'grand purpose' were permitted to crew the SVE ships; the true military might of the conglomerate that spanned entire galaxies with its influence.

But not invincible - not anymore.

And today, they'd see that on a very large scale indeed.

Twenty-nine light seconds away, we were spotted. Detection alerts blared across every section of every ship. Engines came online again, shields established to stable in moments, and weapons primed to fire.

"Unknown vessels..." crackled through communications systems, "...you are hereby ordered to identify and come to a complete stop. If you do no comply, we will open fire."

There was only a single reply from our side, sent back by Kerat on all frequencies. It sounded like a single breath.

"No."

We accelerated.

Chaos broke loose as the Concile's mixed fleet maneuvered to stop us, fighters and long-range torpedoes streaming from their ranks as their capital ships formed a wall in our way, intent on not letting anything pass.

Just as we'd planned.

Rearranging our formation into an ahead-slanted diamond, our support craft fanned out as well, shooting ahead of the Gunships with their superior acceleration, moving into attack position and preparing to begin their attack runs.

Then we opened fire.

Space itself seemed to explode, bright-white flashes of light tearing into the enemy fleet from one instant to another with no visible cause. Massive ships popped like soap bubbles as gargantuan detonations ripped their hulls apart from the inside out, vaporizing the initial target in the sun-hot fires of thermonuclear infernos, then expanding outward to anything unlucky enough to be anywhere within the titanic spherical kill zones.

The detonations came in rapid succession, cutting a line through the enemy formation several hundred kilometers wide, literally ripping open the defensive cocoon of enemy vessels. Panicked transmissions shot back and forth as even the supposedly indestructible SVE ships succumbed to the charges detonating in their innards, crews and machinery falling victim to the unleashed fury of the inferno in only instants.

This was gigafire.

And they'd know the fear of it.

Now and forever.

Caliber 6 charges, equivalent to roughly 5000 gigatons of TNT, appeared in bridges, engine rooms, crew quarters, mess halls, and absolutely anywhere they could, detonating not an instant after having fully materialized and consuming all near them in a single horrid wall of thermonuclear flame.

This was our trump card, our ace in the hole. SVE hulls may have held up against every imaginable punishment, but even they couldn't stop our new weapon from transmitting heavy charges right into the midst of the ships they protected.

We gave no quarter, showed no mercy, sewing fear and panic amongst their ranks as we kept laying salvo upon salvo into their lines, crushing so many lives in so little time.

Their formation literally shattered as we cleaved through their ranks like a titanic spearhead, ripping through defensive lines like they weren't even there. The shock and chaos was so great we hardly took any return fire at all.

But we knew it wouldn't last long.

Then came the moment. I saw the surface come up on my viewscreen.

A signal to my troops was all it took. Everyone knew what to do now. Our drop pods sealed as we set the go for final release, and then the Drop Bay's mechanisms blasted us out of the Gunship like a load of carpet bombs. In the mayhem, their ground-based forces never even saw us coming.

We came from nowhere...

"Ending linear maneuver in seventy-three seconds. Standby."

I barely perceived the announcement. My mind was on other things already - on the ground, in the fray. They'd have fire coming at us from everywhere.

A touch to my shoulder startled me. The clawed hand covered in leathery, deep-green hide took me back to the present.

"Al." the being attached to said hand nodded to me. I returned the gesture silently. there was no need for more words. We understood one another.

Kerat was a Khelari, a species vaguely reptilian and somewhat humanoid. Actually, the presence of two arms and legs, as well as an upright spinal stance, was about all they had in common with humans, though the five-fingered hands bore some resemblance too. In contrast, the long, whip-like tail was an inheritance of their reptilian ancestors, a fifth limb as strong and dexterous an any arm or tentacle I'd ever seen. The head seemed such as well, the skull resembling that of a creature humans often referred to as a 'velociraptor', though I admit I never quite could get the similarity.

The shape of the skull might have been the same, but there similarity already ended, so many details vastly different. The largest discrepancy, however, was likely the deep-green armor-like hide a Khelari had for skin, a rough and leather-like texture with no scales at all. The visage was that of a clear-cut predator, complete with rows of needle-like teeth and eyes that seemed capable of detecting all. To survive, no less develop a civilization, on a world like Khelaris, such things appeared to be obvious necessities.

Kerat clothed himself in a simple fashion, a black jacket with long pants of the same hue, heavy combat boots to match, and a white T-shirt under the night-like coat. Of course things weren't quite as simple as they looked, the seemingly out-of-place assembly being capable of more than met the eye.

Which was good.

We'd need it.

"Don't worry about me." I finally answered, "You guys just keep their fleet busy, we'll handle things on the ground."

"Can do." was Kerat's solemn response, his gaze wandering to the inward slanted 'windshield' of the semicircular bridge, where the chaotic energies of both hyperspace and our continuum presented themselves to our senses as streaks of light in a thick gray fog, arcs of so many energies mixing into the picture at but a whim.

"You really think you can hold them with just four ships?" I found myself second-guessing the plan, unsure, "It's bound to be a trap."

Kerat only smiled back, "Yeah. I'm sure. Trust me, the Concile's never seen anything like these before. We might be outnumbered - but they're the ones who're gonna be outgunned."

Now I found myself smiling as well, watching the countdown to return to normal space. I gave the bridge crew a quick salute, then turned to head for the starboard Drop Bay. On the way, I checked my armor's systems through once more, something that had become second nature over time. It alos helped calm my nerves a bit, taking just enough time to keep me from thinking about anything until I reached the Drop Bay.

The blast door hissed into the ceiling, allowing me passage into the long but relatively narrow room that resembled an inverted trapezoid. On the walls, half-hung, half-stacked, sat the atmospheric entry pods of several robotic divisions, the heavy compound crates numbered and ordered for rapid deployment through discharge locks in the floor of the Drop Bay.

We'd be going in the same way.

It wouldn't be a pleasant ride, but Dropships were out of the question for this operation. The Concile would be defending their positions heavily against orbital assault, and any vessel coming in for landing was calculated as a total loss from the start.


That didn't go to say there wouldn’t be any - there just wouldn't be anyone on board. While their gunners wasted time and attention on those, however, we'd drop a whole division right in their heads, or whatever body part happened to be their uppermost.

In the ensuing chaos, we hoped to go mostly undetected. The plan was simple, clear-cut, and left little unaccounted for. To us, it'd be a well-executed match of chess, every move planned out in advance, always a step ahead of the enemy.

For them - judgment day...

Dang, and I was hoping to see a continuation of the story here when I saw a new post from you on the list...

"Don't worry...be happy..."

My pace was quick, my step secure.

I'd get an earful for shooting the display, but I just couldn't listen to any more of that.

Right now, I didn't really care.

I'd failed.

I'd failed my leader.

No...worse.

I'd failed my friend.

So much could happen in three days.

And little had been what was now official.

Obviously, my opinions differ...

--------------------

APOCAPLYPSE Construction Site
Undisclosed Location
Three days earlier...

My pace was quick, my step secure.

The window gallery passed me swiftly, the many parts of the gargantuan scaffold taking up most of the view. Only every now and then, the faint twinkle of a star managed to make its way through the hundreds of floodlights on the structure's interior.

Normally, I'd stop to watch the work. Like pieces of a puzzle, skyscraper-sized modules drifted through the vacuum of space, guided securely into place by invisible assembly mechanisms. Work was always progressing, always in motion, the supply lines of the Cosmic Factory copies floating a few kilometers off the main scaffold constantly sending the assembly work new parts.

Now wasn't normally.

Now was anything but normal, even for my line of work.

And what a line of work it was.

Leaving the gallery behind, the blast door of my destination hissed into the ceiling at my approach. Beyond lay the hangar I'd selected for the assembly. My troops were already there.

There weren't many left. Only about three hundred of us hadn't fallen in the final battle for our home. I thought that day had broken me...broken all of us. We were sure death was all this world had left to offer us.

But then someone had come.

Given us purpose.

And I'd never forget that.

"Unit assembled, Sir!" tore me from my thoughts. I mustered my officer closely, returning the salute. His heavy armor seemed secure, the jagged edges of his night-black powered suit locking flawlessly into the mounted weapons. I noted his helmet already sealed, the perfectly reflective black surface not allowing even a hint of facial expression to be seen.

The rest of the unit had formed a line beside us, ready and waiting just as their commander, armed to the teeth. Conveying the very picture of the word emotionless was important, taking away a factor for the enemy to exploit.

However, it was far from true. My insides boiled.

"Everyone knows what you're here for." I began, taking position across from the formation, "You will note there are only seventeen of you. Reason being this will be a high-risk operation with little chance of success. You are the most skilled in your fields and have been handpicked for this assignment. However the mainframe predicts less than a seven percent chance of success even under the best of circumstance. Therefore, I will not order you to do this. If you wish to be partake in this rescue mission, take one step..."

I never finished that sentence.

The line moved like a single being.

One step forward...

"...has been three days since the phenomenon's first appearance, which shows no signs of abating..."

"...has already lost three ships to the phenomenon..."

"...states that contact simply broke off after crossing what researchers have now classified as the phenomenon's event horizon. The vessel and its followers are presumed destroyed. All aboard - dead..."

"...has consumed the entire planet and a significant portion of intermediate orbits since its initial appearance. All inhabitants are presumed dead..."

"...an estimated casualty rate of one hundred percent, totaling more than two trillion lives. Details remain unknown, and all attempts to interact or communicate with the phenomenon have failed..."

"...experts call it a collection of, quote, 'nothing at all, as if someone or something had just punched a hole in the universe'..."

"...the appearance of which coincides suspiciously with the latest events brought to you three days ago..."

"...though no link has yet been confirmed, it is the opinion of Concile watch personnel that the phenomenon's appearance could be a direct result of..."

"...is now confirmed that seven members of the of the twenty-man squad were heavily wounded as they attempted..."

"...that followed the capture of the individual identified to this day only as 'Acid'..."

"...Concile civilian relations personnel confirming that the accused was indeed the real one this time, although speculation persists..."

"...that there is no confirmation due to the incident caused by the appearance of the phenomenon..."
"...the court is positive the order was carried out..."
"...thephenomenonhavingtakenholdshortlyafter.. ."
"...andthetimeofinitialappearancematchingperfectly ..."
"...accusedoftreasonandrebellionagainsttheConcile's benevolence..."
"...thearrestandexecutionoftheindividualonlyknownas 'Acid'..."

Black.

Darkness.

Silence...

"What we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning."

- Werner Heisenberg

"A person starts to live when he can live outside himself."

- Albert Einstein

"Only when the illusion knows it is an illusion can it know reality."

- Anonymous

"At the risk of sounding cliché...

...are you coming down or am I coming up?!"

...if you want to taste the ground, feel free to attack me."

...it would be a sad error in judgement, <insert name>, to mistake me for a corpse."

Yeah, those are probably the only one-liners my friends and I use on a regular basis.

That's the Evil Overlord list. We're looking for things not to do here.

Such as...

1095: A ballista is not an appropriate assassin's weapon, even if the rules don't disallow its use.

Had Vychslav been capable of smiling, he would have right about now. However, his lipless jaws weren't capable of any movement other than opening and closing, the dagger-like predatory teeth arrayed like a series of large knives, solid and immobile. His eyes showed no motions as well, the lenses hidden within the orange glow now visible through the aura of energy they used to focus.

To compensate for this inability to display any emotion with physical expression, however, his people were extremely avid at giving their soundless mental 'voices' the undertone of feeling.

At the risk of sounding cliche, I come in peace. Please, take me to your leader...

((Was witing for Xey, but I guess no-show. ))

The quick pause was more than enough for Thysthe. Quickly calculating the proper arc even as he got back on his feet, the bounty hunter returned one pistol to its holter with a gunsligner-esque twirl, then let fly a small sphere with a high-tech appearance.

No sooner had he released the plasma grenade than its roughly five-second countdown started, visible in the form of a faint blue aura about the small explosive, heading for Amora.

Sadly, anger frequently caused mistakes - and miscalculations. Even for Thysthe.

Instead of impacting the darkness-wielding woman, the flight arc of Armand's grenade sruck it to the tree beside her instead, the very same Entropy had dropped from.

Muttering a curse, Thysthe quickly sought cover behind a nearby boulder as the plasma grenade continued its internal countdown.

Then again, one of them might just do something stupid like try to pick it up and throw the grenade away. Then it would stick to them instead.

Three...

--------------------

Vyachslav moved again, sensing an energy signature nearby. His large head turned to the suspected location of the source, and sure enough there was something in the treeline not far away, though it couldn't be seen with just visible light. Thankfully, Vyachslav wasn't dependent on visible light, capable of many other vision modes, including thermal imaging.

Focusing in on the figure, it didn't take long for the profile to find a close match for what registered as a mechanoid - though not exact. The thoughts emanating from it, however, would have completed the picture even without one.

Small Toy.

Vyachslav began moving toward the robot of Toy Dispenser's entourage.

It is good to come to contact with someone familiar. I take it Blightlord is doing this, yes?

The Consigliere's mental pulse most certainly found a living mind. Vyachslav was just keeping his thoughts to himself, not actively concealing his location on the mental plane...

I sense chances of a favorable outcome increasing.

1068: There is no power called "Gouging".

1069: Headsplitter is NOT a hold.

((Quite...sigh...sorry about stalling this as well, I guess some people don't want to notice my pal. ))

Vyachslav's claws came to a halt roughly a meter above Wolfgang. It didn't take but a microsecond.

This guy was giving up. That didn't make any sort of sense. But...he was with Blightlord. He had to be! Or not? If he wasn't, why was he here? Was this all just an intricate plot meant to fool and confuse those who got caught in it?

To Wolfgang, it may well have appeared that Vyachslav had seized up. He wasn't moving, not even breathing (which his species didn't do in the first place, but it may well have appeared odd), just completely still as the seconds ticked by...

--------------------

Thysthe didn't reply. The spell-fueled anger had taken over. His mind combat-locked at the moment, the bounty hunter didn't even realize it. He thought this was all coming from his own will.

Faster than most humans could blink, Armand tore his plasma pistols out of their holsters and into firing position, letting loose with a rapid succession of tiny, sun-hot plasma spherules, even as he scrambled back to his feet to prepare his next move...

"The quiet type, I see." Hotaka commented, stretching his arms when Torroes didn't answer his question, "Or might you perhaps be afraid of something happening? Ah, who's to say?"

The robed man slowly stood, his total height not far off from Torroes' own. He didn't seem concerned with his new cellmate, though, instead leaning against the door of their accommodation.

From the end of the cell block echoed, "Two coming in...!"

--------------------

"'Sup with that dog today?" the guardsman manning 'the button' questioned as Lloyd and his assigned guard came to the lockout entryway to the cell block, "He's following ya everywhere. He never did that before."

The uniformed man just shrugged, not even bothering with the leash, which he'd tied to his belt, "Who's to say?"

"Yeh, ya never know what them animals are thinkin'. Heh, if this goes on, maybe ya can get ol' Lloyd to translate for us one of these days, ha ha ha..."

The dog's companion just smirked as the laughing guard pressed the button, shouting into the microphone, "Two coming in..."