[i]"It was the sound of reality breaking under the most absurd strain."[/i] [b] [i]Thunder.[/i][/b] The world shook. The ground quaked, trampled by far too many limbs at once. Above the surging tide, hovering and gesturing their terrible command and with quavering shrills shrieking their victory, three Wizards were present to oversee this tribute. Three Guardians. It wasn't a feast, it wasn't even a proper slaughter. But it would be tithe, as each of the Thrall who managed to carve away pieces of these three bold beings of Light would consume their small morsel before that power was passed up - passed up directly to [i]them[/i], so that they would pass tithes higher, and so on, and so are the Hive. The Wizards could only barely restrain their zeal for the moment. It may have promised higher reward to simply capture the Guardians, to drain them slowly of Light - perhaps to use them as a conduit, chain them down and bleed them slowly and twist their Light deep in the Chamber of Night. But they knew better. Such ambition had proven the undoing, over and over, of powerful Hive. The Light, as most things which come from the Sky, [b][i]IS A LIAR[/i][/b]. Three Guardians, bound and tortured and pulled apart into delicious, wretched para-causal threads --- perhaps the Vex make sense after all --- would be a font of power. Fuel for the ascension of this Wizard, and this Wizard, and that Wizard as well who were sisters only in thirst. Trapping them was no option. End them. End them quickly, allow the Thrall to feast and be satisfied on their death throes and Light echoes. End them. End them now. *************************** The Thrall were upon them. There was no time to count them, to measure their odds. The Titan, Anfur, made none of her sly quips. Zinre, the Hunter, violated her keen logical cadence of violence - her standing rule of [i]"...one shot per breath."[/i] which kept her so fiercely efficient. The Warlock, Caibre - well, she smiled. And she never did. How they'd come to be here, in the desolate wilds of Earth's southmost continent, no longer mattered. Why the Hive were here, digging, no longer mattered. This moment was the meeting of seas, and their violence was as crashing waves upon one another. Anfur turned, her rifle pushed beyond the crisp, brief barks of the normal. Typically the beast she wielded was restrained, announcing clipped exclamations at it's foes. Three, five rounds at a time - but now it was unleashed, now it [b]ROARED[/b] and its bellow was force and its shout shook them apart. They advanced even still, the quake of their collective charge competing with a brilliant and terrible chorus. Drowning it out. Anfur could not hold them back alone, and ought to have been swallowed as was the roar of her weapon. But she was not. Zinre had joined her. She did not fight back the crushing thunder with thunder of her own, she did not seek to end the stampede of trampling feet and gnashing teeth and flailing claws by shaking them apart so that the flakes of their flesh could only blow as harmless dust - no, she sought to bring order to it all. Establish a rhythm, a beat, so that on her count a head of a charging creature would simple vanished. The throng thundered, Anfur roared, Zinre [i]drummed[/i]. A smart, sharp snare accompaniment, a rapid patter of [b]cracks[/b] from a pair of sidearms who enjoyed a dance as much as she. The devouring rush were her partners, and they did not want to move to the step beneath the thunder and roar but she [i]would teach them[/i] so that they would know. She demonstrated her best arts. Anfur's roar broke, for a breath---the Titan reloaded her rifle, crouching to a knee as she turned and slammed a new magazine into the receiver--- and Zinre went over her. An elbow to her broad shoulder, firing upon an eager Thrall who sought to break the line and reach them without ever properly learning the step. She fired back in the direction from which she'd come, knowing to punctuate [i]here[/i], and then [i]here[/i] to keep the pace. Arms spread wide, embracing the song until Anfur was up again and she felt her retake her place. They were back to back, Zinre's arms coming in as she swept them in with flourish to reload and the roar commanded respect again. Caibre. Oh, Caibre did grin because Caibre had rarely been a witness and a part to such beauty. Such chaos, such charge, such wonder - Caibre saw the rush and the reply, the song and the dance, the thunder and the roar, and the thread of [i]strategy[/i] which ran through it she wanted to chastise the Wizards, if ever they could speak to one another. Compare notes, analyze the composition, rehearse their moves against one another - they should have known better. Clearly, they didn't. Anfur and Zinre wound about her, firing in what seemed an endless barrage. Keeping the rushing Thrall back, away from her, as she focused hellfire between her palms. The thunder was coming for them. They would be consumed in moments, no matter how many of the writhing horde were brought down - no. No that was not true. Because [i]matters [/i]can be changed, circumstances altered, [b]fate made[/b]. When she felt ready, she drew her hands apart. Allowed the Solar flame to expand into an orb out ahead of her, above her, and pitched forward to lob it into the rush. They shrieked. Thrall could [b]sing[/b], that was what was missing! This composition was lacking vocal accompaniment, though the Wizards attempted to weave a refrain, though they attempted to silence her, sisters of Dark would not shout down the sisters of Light this day. The Thrall sang when they burned, and Caibre knew why she had smiled. The thunder did not break, nor did the roar, nor did the snare, but it did rise to high accent which pitched clear out of auditory range as the orb of sunlike fury exploded. Again. This was the beginning of the finale. They wanted more, there would be no encore, this would be the performance which defined these six sisters and resolved three of them as ended in totality. Each was clearly deserving a proper requiem. She focused, turned, and hurled another. And another. And another. And another. And then she too was blazing as her projectiles, and the Thrall sang for her, and sang [i]to[/i] her, and the songs of the Wizards were about [b]her[/b] and this was her moment! Anfur tracked briefly the blazing trail of the Warlock as she flit about, scorching ground and foe and air alike. But when she too was bathed in the flames, she knew that it was not to reduce her to ash as the now shrieking thrall. No. Now she was full of the song herself, and it would accentuate her roar, and so she tossed her weapon aside as there was no further need for it to speak for her. She charged. They came apart in her path. Discharges of Arc dismissed them from being. If they had not begun to sing before now, they would never have the chance. Her roar would be the last they would hear, her fist the last they would feel - the thunder of the rushing mass was abating, because her roar was louder and belonged in this song. Caibre had let her know. Caibre had complimented her roar, critiquing the shrill attempts of the Hive abominations. The first of the Wizards fell when Anfur dragged her from the sky. They both sparked, and flickered, and raged against one another - but if the Wizard attempted to converse, or bargain, or sing like the others it was lost to Anfur's roar. Zinre felt the tempo change. It was new, it was wonderful, and she was free. The flames engulfed her, and then they were her hands, and then her quick measured gestures inflicted the precision of her dance as blazing wounds, and the awe at their knowing erupted upon the others who did not know, and their knowing chained to others, and the Wizard did not understand so Zinre faced her and directed full attention upon her. Four smart cracks punctuated the crescendo. The Wizard did not survive three, but they came in such quick succession that this would never be known. ************************** Her sisters were gone. The din was maddening, the Light blinding, the devastation awe inspiring and... truly enviable. The Guardians were not pure might. There was no contest for them, among those who were not Ascendant. She and her sisters came with thunder shrieks, and were answered with... beauty. Song, dance, strength. There was something she knew she did not understand, as what was left of her burned away. Something... [i]superior[/i], a switch which activated and suddenly crashed Guardians though the otherwise stubborn barrier between mortality and godhood. If only for a moment. But a moment was enough. More than enough. Clearly.