"Something is amiss" hissed one ASPECT of one reality.
"This cannot be undone" seethed another.
"How dare he! We ended him, he must pay!"
Vehemence given sentience, Abyssal entities screamed for their pound of flesh.
"Quiet," whispered the TYRANT.
And existence kneeled.
"Find him," whispered the gentlest of suggestions
And the nightmares obeyed.
Verdant green as far as the eye could see, the Nithrel plains were covered in lush, knee-length grass. Woodlands, mountains, and streams snaked through the vast emerald expanse, creating a viridian corridor between the Skytree mountains and the Mist-sea. On these peaceful plains, the 14th army of the Glorious Empire of IMMORAL, 100,000 strong, was besieged by spider-like creatures. Chaos reigned through the ranks as soldiers, ill-equipped to deal with the 14-foot spider-men, fell by the dozen.
"We have lost men, Xeral," his second-in-command said, his once well-kempt appearance now gaunt and sunken. "Our flank was ripped apart by the Ver'rack. We need Zeva to hold them off or we risk losing the entire side."
The Xeral looked at the man with calm eyes, radiating a palpable aura. Heat roiled off of him in tangible waves. "Authorization - Novum Nocturne septum, the Shrike is hereby activated, Priority - Ver'rack. Tell Zeva to stay out of the line of fire for now," he rumbled, his gravelly baritone echoing through the ranks.
"And if their heavy hitters show up?" asked Davian.
The air screeched under the immense weight of a plain iron hammer materializing by the side of the Xeral. His ornate gauntlets and breastplate glowing red from being near the potent artifact, its power enough to warp the metal around it to molten slag. His usual dark brown fur burned orange and a vicious smile played upon his Leonid canines.
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The wind sang to Zeva Andross.
It always had. It had sung her to sleep as a child, saved her from dangers as a girl, and shed the blood of her enemies as a woman. A tendril of wind grazed her ear, carrying along with it the orders of her Xeral. Its stern tone at odds with its soft caress.
"Shrikes," she trilled, "Priority Unus- Ver'rack, engage to eliminate. Adrastea guide us."
"Adrastea guide us," barked twelve figures as they leaped with unearthly grace. Garbed in grey and outfitted with instruments of mortality, the Shrike's talons blurred across the battlefield.
The Ver'rack are a sight to behold. And upon beholding, you retch uncontrollably before voiding your bowels from the smell. Pale humanoid torsos grafted onto razor-sharp exoskeletons of spiders. Lipless mouths, lidless eyes, and lobe-less ears ooze tar-like pus. A barbed tongue serpentine in its quest for flesh. Outfitted with bone bows and septic barbs, these hell-spawn make full use of their sinewy appendages to find high ground and bombard enemies with, first their horrendous visage and secondly, poison arrows. Calling them light-armed cavalry would be an understatement. Regardless of how it moved, an 8-foot tall poisonous man-spider could hardly be called ‘light’.
It was towards these scuttling abominations that the Shrike and her talons were gliding towards, not a care in the world.
Zeva stopped a good 500 paces before reaching the enemy lines. The Ver'rack's initial sneak attack had cost many lives before shields could be activated. And they wouldn’t hold long. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the defiled bodies of soldiers at the foot of the enemy mound. Her soldiers were not monster trophies.
It was all she could do to still the anger raging in her heart. She wanted nothing more than to have her winds shear these abnormalities from her lands. But she had her orders. Unknown dangers still stalk these shadows, and she was needed to deal with any surprises. Above all, her Xeral must be obeyed.
"Go," she rasped as 12 shadows darted behind enemy lines.
The screaming began.
Elite Rangers seldom have problems dealing with monsters whose only saving grace was agility. Masters of the ASPECT of AIR, they carved through their enemies with the ferocity of a razor-sharp tempest. ASPECT must be met with ASPECT; mindless creatures cannot face the might of AIR.
Still, Zeva was worried. The winds were restless, they whispered of blood, of pain. Something wasn’t right. She trilled thrice. The shadows didn’t bat an eye, a well-oiled machine they retreated as one, moving back to their leader.
One didn’t make it.
Three blurs of fire and magma burst from within the lines of the Ver'rack. Zeva was fast, but not fast enough.