Board Thread:Fun and Games Forum/@comment-25728469-20150523185110/@comment-25728469-20150629054123

Inquisitor01 wrote: (On a side note: a new RP will be started, being an indirect follow-up to the House of Storms threads. And both of you, Nova and Kraken, are welcome to join.) (Wow! Thanks! I'll be sure to keep an eye out for it! And my thought for the VoG was that Atheon and the Templar weren't really dead, just temporarily lost to the flow of time, and could kind of speak to Tortheon in some way. hile they are not dead, I wanted them to be "out of the way", if you know what I mean.)

Besis stood in the cockpit of a command Skiff, watching a holographic representation of the battlefield. "Oh, if only Skolas could see this now." He watched as several blips, each indicating a Cabal Harvester, appeared on the edge of the representation. His own armada of Skiffs was quick to approach the enemy. The pilot looked back to Besis. "Cabal ships are almost in range."

"Fire all weapons." Besis commanded. The pilot tapped several commands, and the hum of the Skiff's shock turrets ruffled the hairs on Besis' neck. He purred with delight. "This shall be a day long remembered in the House of Wolves- the day their new Kell triumphed over the Cabal at the heart of the Machines!"

"New Kell?!" The pilot growled in surprise. "You cannot be serious!" Besis lunged and held his claws to the pilot's throat. "I am, indeed, serious. Skolas proclaimed the Kell of Kells- and he is now rotting in the Prison of Elders. The House of Wolves deserves a truly strong leader. I, naturally, am the right choice."

"I would not be so sure." The pilot said. "Rhakor and Thraliks make equally decent candidates-" Besis sank his claws into the pilot's neck, but not deep enough to cause too much damage. "Perhaps when Rhakor and Thralliks return, I shall show them who is rightfully Kell. Now shut your jaws before I dock your limbs, and continue firing." The pilot hissed in annoyance, but went back to his duties.

Bracus Vor'umic watched from an outcropping, heavy metal barriers erected around it to create a makeshift command center. His helmet's automatic image enhancers zoomed in on the Fallen Skiff fleet engaging that of his own Harvesters. Immediately, while a Harvester was shot down, three Skiffs fell at the same time. "Ah, I can smell their blood flowing now." Vor'umic said. He then turned and hefted his personal prize: the head of a Precursor Goblin, neatly disconnected from the body, which hung in the back of the outcropping. Vor'umic admired the head, turning it about in his hand. "Oh, how I must know the secret to your mind. I must know how you operate! But that blasted Minotaur... oh, poor Taric'ic... how he would have loved this moment, too." Vor'umic carried the head back to the body and gingerly placed it in the neck socket. "Perhaps you will become my personal assistant." He said. He then turned back to the battle. The Fallen Skiffs were rapidly falling, but he could see something else in the distance: a Ketch, slowly moving to join the Skiffs. "Hm... so the Fallen wish to play this game? Very well." He turned to his new Lieutenant, Aru'nar. "Order our heaviest artillery forward. Target that Ketch."

"As you wish, my Bracus." And the Lieutenant lumbered away to relay the command, while Vor'umic continued to view the battle.