Assault on Darkshire [Staging]

[Skeletor]

Skeletor’s non-existent eyes tracked the girl as she teleported around them with a disconcerting ease. Skeletor disliked how changeable her emotions appeared to be. “A trifle taciturn…” he muttered to himself as she turned away, fiddling with a gleaming knife. Skeletor was not sure what kind of threat the girl actually could pose but she certainly carried herself with more confidence than her stature should have suggested. She was evidently more skilled than she her appearance would indicate. Or insane.


The other new arrivals were equally concerning. The small girl’s travelling companion waited until she had finished before introducing himself. The hooded man carried himself with an air of intellect, but there was a maddened gleam in his eyes, something about the way they darted to the shadows whenever he wasn’t being watched. Like he was looking for an escape route, or perhaps like he was being hunted. Skeletor eyed the man’s weaponry as he clenched and unclenched his strange gauntlets.  It would be unwise to ignore this fool, or his proposal.



The last newcomer seemed more stable, though her manner was dangerously tactical. She was perhaps the most dangerous of the three. Her insectoid appearance was not especially frightening to Skeletor, he assumed she must possess control over insects to some degree, as many of the critters that scuttled behind her seemed to suggest. It was her eyes. The stark yellow orbs gleamed with a predatory intellect as she studied the faces of the other primes. As her attention turned to Skeletor he felt a strange piercing pain in the back of his skull. That shouldn’t have been possible, since he had nothing inside that should have been able to feel pain, but as the insectoid woman stared him down he found himself struggling to maintain eye contact.



Eventually she moved on, and began speaking to Illidan. The Elf-man was certainly not one to take for granted either. He seemed impatient with many of them, and Skeletor could not decide if he envied the Demon hunter’s position.  He had an army at his back, and evidently several primes were at his beck and call. But for all of his apparent power, Illidan seemed uneasy. Like a man carefully balancing explosives. His silent companion remained a burial-cloth wrapped enigma. He was watching the proceedings with glittering ruby eyes and the slightest hint of self-satisfaction but had yet to introduce himself beyond what Illidan had  there were many more pressing issues to deal with in this group than an undead who was simply less willing to share than the rest of them.


Panthor had leapt into one of the withered trees that dotted the ruined courtyard. The creaking branches swayed as the massive feline crouched amidst them. The elhound watching from the ground below, mouth expressionless and tentacles at the ready if Panthor made any move. The huge cat stayed crouched growling at the felhound from the safety of its perch.  Content his pet was not in present danger, Skeletor turned to listen to Illidan’s plan with the others. There were enough loose cannons in the crew that it would be a wonder if they even made it to Darkshire as a cohesive force. Even if he had possessed lips Skeletor could not help but grin as he awaited their leaders plan of action. These were his kind of people.