It was said in the ancient times that the forests were alive. A foreboding place for those of those small villages, full of predators and danger. It made sense to use stories to keep their young from the tall trees, the darkening foliage, the hidden creatures no doubt lurking within. And so, around campfire embers, when the kill was in their bellies and the night grew close, they would tell tall tales about fantastic creatures and terrifying monsters that threatened to take their young ones away, to take those that didn’t listen to their elders off and do cruel and unspeakable justice to them.
Even clad in Iron skins and wielding swords made of starfire, they still could feel a stir of echoes from those threats. In the deep shadows of dusk, between vines thicker than a man’s wrist and the stillness of birds suddenly silent lived caution. There was something primordial about it, something that itched at the base of their skulls, in the un-evolved parts of their minds telling them that something was wrong.
When faced with that kind of threat, biologists, sociologists, and other experts say that naturally most people will freeze, fawn, fight, or flee. That at our heart, we are all merely social animals, herd animals. Prey animals.
Not them.
They were the ones that were told stories, true. But they were also those that stories were told about. That were spoken of in hushed whispers and exaggerated tales. They were the ones wreathed in fire, magic at their fingertips and rage in their eyes. They were the ones that when the helmet came off there was nothing beneath. They were the hunters, the monsters, the evil spirits.
And they were not alone.
Dusk falls over the woods that Quentin moves through a cold breeze starts the night air, knowing full well his cloak would let me survive the night but not in comfort he finds a somewhat flat area to set up a small fire for warmth, gathering the the wood needed before the sun was fully set and using his lightsaber to start the first flame he brings his fire to life letting the flames warm the area around it. while it burned he gathered what would he could from the campfire light, then he sat cross legged staired into the fire and let his mind go blank letting the force flow through him replenishing him feeling it from the trees, plants , and wildlife around him a endless unexhaustible reservoir of power. His meditation allowed him to track all life around him keeping him well aware of suprises and dangers that could be about.
A foreboding feeling crept over Hector Von Ricmore. Disagreements over the parameters of the mission or the philosophy of Brotherhood interactions could wait until the mission had finished. Yet the Kiffar could not shake the idea that something unnatural was afoot in the forest the group had found themselves in. With their differing philosophies, it was probably best to allow the group to dictate the course of any further conflict. As such, Hector took the opportunity to slow his approach, relying on the large trees to obscure his armored form.
Zxyl, ahead of the pack from his earlier departure, had kept an eye on the varying flora that surrounded their position as they moved. It was too little, too late to change the stage of the game. They were inbound, and a reckoning awaited whoever they were to come into contact with on their trudge through the forest. The Regent of the Brotherhood made no real effort to conceal himself nor his position as he wade through the overgrowth of the trees, his custom WESTAR-35 Blaster Pistol Naast held in his left hand and ready to go at a moment’s notice. They had been walking for felt like forever, and hopefully would be upon their target soon enough.
Helpful Artificial Lackey (H.A.L.) had kept a report of their progress, as well as the path back to the shuttle if it were necessary for them to retrace their steps.
A deep foreboding was felt in the woods. Even Scout walking at Korvis side was cautious as he kept looking side to side. Delayed in waiting on the arrival of the transport shuttle to deliver the two wolves Korvis was following the path trying to catch up to his partners in crime.
The verbal altercation between Hector Von Ricmore and the Regent had soured the mood almost as much or perhaps even more than the forest they found themselves in. It seemed to swallow all positive energy, just a nagging feeling at the back of the mind that got stronger the longer he was in the forest. Perhaps it was nothing but it seemed to permeate his thoughts and obviously it was more than just him.
The forest was quiet except for the footfalls of his companions. The long trek gave the opportunity for the party to think. An uncomfortable about of time to be honest. Perhaps about this adventure was over Hector would find the opportunity to meet with Zxyl and talk; to resolve their problems or put them behind them. Whatever their differences in philosophy, Zxyl had not directly visited harm upon his person. Which made him different from Titius. Sometimes people deserved second chances.