Board Thread:Fun and Games Forum/@comment-25175520-20150307231018/@comment-107.196.174.179-20150425212512

(One of the captains got its head blown off by Orkrim.)

Rhall's howl of rage echoed after the guardains as they fled down the tunnel towards the tube line below. The archon called his forces to him as his rage was rekindled by his prey's escape. Of his hunters, sixteen vandals, one captain, the lesser servitor, and his bodyguard remained. Many reavers hasd been lost in the assault, and he had nothing to show for it; the prey escaping at the last moment behind a wall of rubble.

The servitor drifted about, lending its attention to healing the various wounds of those still standing. The reaver captain, whose name Rhall had never bothered to remember, was engaged in an elabrote string of curses, facing the rubble of the relay station. He had lost one of his four eyes to a lucky shot from the pistol of the cloaked one, and now clutched the sword of the guardian who had humiliated Rhall, in favor of his destroyed shock rifle. The blade no longer burnt with void fire, but reminded rhall of the shallow, but scarring gash across the left side of his chest. His bodyguard strode over to his side, its weapon slung, and clutching its right arm in its left. The archon paied it no mind, after all, when he had ripped the mind from its shell, It had reattached its legs and left arm in a matter of hours.

Rhall reached into a pouch on his belt, and withdrew a small clump of a light grey material. Tearing off a small portion, he replaced the clump in his pouch as he worked the material unil it became hot and malleable. He then grasped his torn eather tubes, and held them to their ports as he sealed them in place with the rapidly hardening mixture.

With his most urgent problem out of the way, he called for a mass prayer to the prime. When the prayer was finished, the fallen took to the former battlefield, stripping it clean of anything remotly salvageable before boarding their skiffs and departing for the ketch.