[spoiler]No worries about the delay. I've had a few of my own.[/spoiler] Rathiks snarls in rage as his attacker escapes. He lowers the smoldering scorch cannon from his shoulder and looks around at the damage. The bodies of Eliksni litter the chamber, all in various stages of ruin. His own Devils move about the hold, the butts of shrapnel launchers held tightly to their shoulders as they check the mutilated forms of their enemies and comrades. Not many still live, and those that do won't survive for long. The weapons of the Fallen are brutally efficient. The invaders that will only take up valuable ether to die in the midst of questioning are dispatched with shock daggers, their heads yanked back and the blades pulled roughly across their throats. Their bodies are immediately pillaged. Those that were healthy enough to live but could not escape and were left behind in the raging confusion of combat ( not to mention active Vandal obfuscation kits and a mountain of smoke ) are brought to kneel before Rathiks. The Elder Captain glowers down at them with his three good eyes. As the adrenaline leaves his body, it starts to ache. Places where shock rifles bit through his shields and armor spill a dark, almost violate-colored liquid. The once fine burnished metal is cracked and his flesh burnt. Rathiks lets a hostile hiss escape from between his teeth as he looks upon those that caused him pain. "Name yourselves, your House, and he who abandoned you to me," the Devil demands.

[spoiler]Well, this is interesting. Didn't expect this. As such, this will be a bit of shift in perspective. I prefer to be in first person, but this calls for third person selective. No problem, though, I was curious as to where you would take this.[/spoiler] All but one of them stayed stoic, the last one chuckling under his breath, the sound slightly distorted by the blood in his mouth. "I'll congratulate you as the first to do this much damage to us, and your cunning is impressive." At this point, the humor quickly faded from his eyes. "But you are a fool if you think we will give you anything more than the blood and ether in our veins. Either way, you will fall for what you have done: we will not take such an offense lightly." Then, they all started to whisper a chant, which Rathiks could only barely hear, spoken in Cityspeak: "Out of the night that covers me..." Despite any effort to rouse them, they stay like this, unresponsive to anything, even grievous injury. [spoiler]And now, back to our regularly scheduled program. Also, cookie if you get the reference.[/spoiler] "How many?" I asked wearily, as on of the medics tended to my wounds. I could hear the grief in Zavak's voice as he spoke: "Thirteen. Nine dead, four captured." I hissed in pain, both of body and soul, before relaxing back into my seat as the medic resumed his work. "And the tower?" I said, looking to the comms officer, who shook his head. "We aren't being tailed, at least. Though I doubt that will stay the case for long." I released another strained breath at that, before I returned my attention to comms officer again. "Set the message to repeat at five-minute intervals, and wake me if you get a response." With that, I closed my eyes, to get some amount of rest. ~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~ I awoke to someone shaking my left primary shoulder. "Sir, we're receiving a response. It's Commander Zavala." I nodded, and stood, still slightly weak from blood and ether loss. I made my way to the comms station, and took the mic the officer offered me. "This is the commander of the Mist. To whom am I speaking to?" My well-spoken words seemed to throw him off guard, as there was a pause before he responded. "I am Commander Zavala, Titan Vanguard of the City. What are you called?" "Only my men have a name for me, and that is simply "sir". Other than that, and my position, I have no other titles, nor have I need for them." Another pause. "Very well. For the time being, may I call you Mist?" I took a moment to look behind me, at the fierce loyalty of my men, before turning back to the console. "Yes, that will do. Enough of this, though. There are far more important matters at hand. My purpose in coming to you is simple: redeem my race, in the eyes of all who watch, and raise us back to where we fell from. This I do, not for the sake of old glory or power, but so that we may survive. We are in the sorriest state we've ever been, and now, I fear we will not survive. Not without help." This time, he was silent for a good few minutes, before another voice spoke. "I am Ikora Ray, Warlock Vanguard. What is it you offer in return?" To this, I answered without hesitation. "One less front on which to fight, and a new ally to draw strength from on all others. All I ask for is the chance to defy that which we have represented for centuries: hate, greed, and cruelty." "You stack yourself against great odds." Said Ikora after a moment. I chuckled. "Never tell me the odds." There was a faint "Did he just say-" in the background, before their mic was muted. Now, all we could do was wait, and hope we didn't get blown out of the sky. [spoiler]Damn, this was long. Sorry if it's a bit much. Also, I think we might need a Guardian character, unless you want to take the reins for the Vanguard, perhaps still then.[/spoiler]

[spoiler]I think this is a good place to stop this particular thread. I'll start a new one soon enough. I've got a Guardian character, but I know another player who might enjoy jumping in. I liked how you did the Vanguard, by the way.[/spoiler] The fate of the four captured Eliksni is...brutal. Their lower arms are ceremonially cut from their bodies, reducing them to Dregs. The rest of their limbs soon follow, but it's the lesser arms that define an Eliksni's status. Vandals have value. Dregs do not. And now four enemy Dregs, their extremities removed, decorate the outside hull of the ketch, secured by chains welded directly to the metal. They're left to die from exposure. It's a cruel death, and with their demise comes a message: the mysterious leader that attacked the ketch might have gotten away, but he cannot escape the fury of Rathiks.

[spoiler]In order: alright, that makes sense, message me when you do; I also have two that were interested in my character when I first got it approved; thank you for the compliment; and I do hope you aren't too attached to Rathiks, as he is going to die. Very painfully and very brutally. As the one guy said, the Mist will not take such a thing lightly. If need be, it can happen behind closed doors, but it's going to happen. No hard feelings, though. ;)[/spoiler]

[spoiler]He's an antagonist. He's meant to die. He won't go easily, but I didn't plan on him surviving anyway.[/spoiler]