06-03-2015, 03:21 PM
Behemoth glowered with determination and he attempted to eavesdrop on Nealaphh's thoughts. However it seemed the Prime had sensed the mustache man's presence.
Behemoth didn't bother wasting an eye to simply look at Nealaphh, instead he gaged his judgement off of the other's in the room. Now there were three psykers in the room, and Behemoth didn't like the odds.
Nealaphh would have been able to quickly determine that Behemoth was not a Prime, no matter the amount of power emanating from his body, he still lacked any Omnilium coursing through his bulging veins. Behemoth didn't look like much, but it was always the scrawny ones who seemed to have the most tricks up their sleeve.
His reaction alone had left a question hanging in the air for Nealaphh to grasp should he wish to.
Behemoth was conversing with Daxter and the Commander when a ripple of energy brushed against his skin. The man's eyes flashed to the source of the sensation, locking on the shadow while still juggling the attention of the fox and his friends.
"My, my. Looks like I picked a champion, wouldn't you say? Too bad he doesn't much like the blood." Behemoth's eyes hadn't touched the screen that showed a bandaged man eviscerating a powerful ninja and his body was facing the red-furred creature, but from across the room, his eyes remained sharp on his target, sizing him up as someone who could be a dangerous toy to add to his collection. That, and the mustache never liked anyone who could pose a threat; as a master psychic, he liked to be in control, much like the Game Master pulling the strings of the puppets on the island.
Greedy eyes seethed, repulsed by his own territorial anger and compromised his not-so-effective pokerface. Who was this new friend?
Behemoth didn't bother wasting an eye to simply look at Nealaphh, instead he gaged his judgement off of the other's in the room. Now there were three psykers in the room, and Behemoth didn't like the odds.
Nealaphh would have been able to quickly determine that Behemoth was not a Prime, no matter the amount of power emanating from his body, he still lacked any Omnilium coursing through his bulging veins. Behemoth didn't look like much, but it was always the scrawny ones who seemed to have the most tricks up their sleeve.
His reaction alone had left a question hanging in the air for Nealaphh to grasp should he wish to.
Behemoth was conversing with Daxter and the Commander when a ripple of energy brushed against his skin. The man's eyes flashed to the source of the sensation, locking on the shadow while still juggling the attention of the fox and his friends.
"My, my. Looks like I picked a champion, wouldn't you say? Too bad he doesn't much like the blood." Behemoth's eyes hadn't touched the screen that showed a bandaged man eviscerating a powerful ninja and his body was facing the red-furred creature, but from across the room, his eyes remained sharp on his target, sizing him up as someone who could be a dangerous toy to add to his collection. That, and the mustache never liked anyone who could pose a threat; as a master psychic, he liked to be in control, much like the Game Master pulling the strings of the puppets on the island.
Greedy eyes seethed, repulsed by his own territorial anger and compromised his not-so-effective pokerface. Who was this new friend?
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"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus