Board Thread:Fun and Games Forum/@comment-25175520-20150521200045/@comment-107.196.174.179-20150528003824

(75: While I argee that it might not make sense for your primus to be hurt, It could make for good source material for a future RP if he holds a grudge against the guardians and Ma'carn. As for the alliance, it's fine as long as it ends after this battle.)

At the crash site of the ketch, six skiffs boomes into existance, circling the site before spiraling down towards a hanger. Looking down at his ketch, Rhall spoke with shock and fury.

"WHAT IN THE HALLOWED NAME OF ELKRIS PRIME HATH HAPPENED?!"

After the skiffs docked, Rhall made his way through the hallways of the ketch with haste, heading for the throne room, his rage growing with every step. Shoving open the half-opened hatch to the bridge, his gaze instantly fixed on Lokass, who stood at the foot of his throne, surrounded by vandals, captains, and datascreens.

"LOKASS! I LEAVE FOR A HUNT AND THOU CRASH MY KETCH?! I OUGHT TO SKIN THEE WHERE THY STAND, AND MAKE A BANNER FROM THY FLESH! THOU HATH TRUELY...

In the midst of Rhall's furious rant, lokass inturrupted him, his voice an icy contrast to the archon's.

"Thy efforts would be wasted my lord. The damage to thy ketch is minimal, the crash caused little harm to the hull or superstructure. The problem lies with the flight algorithims; those that were not destroyed are corrupted beyond use. Thy ketch is barely damaged, but shall not fly until the algorithims are re-written. From scratch."

"AND WHO'S INCOMPTINCE IS TO BLAME FOR FOR THIS?! ANSWER ME THAT LOKASS!

"I take full responsibilty for this disaster my lord. But the cause was a group of psions who snuck aboard, and sabotaged the engines. I and four vandals slew most of them, but I believe one managed to escape. Minus its right hand."

Rhall was about to go on, but he then noticed Lokass's lower left arm, dangling broken and useless, with a bone sticking out at the elbow. His right hand captain had already paid for his lack of vigilance. Mulling over this, and his prey's repeated escape, Rhall's fury boiled over to an icy calm, with a terrible will behind it.

"Lokass, see to it that the ketch's perimeter is secured. Use any forces thy need, save those I take with me."

"Thou art leaving my lord?"

"The ketch is safe, but before the day is out, I must finish my hunt."

With that, Rhall and his hunters re-boarded their skiffs, cramming some extra equipment in next to a large crate guarded by the reaver captain and two vandals.

"Still asleep my lord."

Eyeing the tightly sealed crate, Rhall replied.

"We shall wake it soon enough."

Rhall then climbed into the cockpit of his command skiff, where the vandal co-pilot adressed him.

"Something is gradually jamming our comms my lord. We hast only the most heavily encrypted channels left, and those to shall soon fall."

"Open a channel to Kahniss, one way message."

When the channel was secured, Rhall spoke in the cerimonial fallen tounge, only known to archons, barons, and the kell.

"Khaniss, the final round of this game is upon us. Each player moves their peices to counter the others and claim the prize. Now is the time to strike. Hold back no longer. Bring every member of your crew and every ounce of your power down on the frozen swords. Do not hold back, do not relent, and do not fail. If we take what lies in this "deep stone facility", then we take the great machine. We crush the city, scatter the light, and stop the kings. No matter what, we must not fail. So go forth, claim our salvation. I must finish what I have started. My prey has eluded me twice. And all hunters know, if you cannot run the prey down, or dig it out of its burrow,...you set a snare. And I have bait that they cannot resist."

With the message sent, the skiffs departed. Their destination, an ancient defense complex at the western edge of the swords, complete with a bunker far below the ice; the perfect place for the final hunt to unfold.