Aboard the massive crusier, the enginers were still working ate restoring the main generator. in a cavernous hanger, a small group was assembling. The group of Elites all wore the black, or on occasion red armor. One even wore white. SIX Hunters hunched over behind them. The tension was hightened by the two Brutes hunched over to one side, thickening the entire atmosphere. Finnaly the servant of the prophet, Justicar Voress came in, escorted by two Elites in the gold. "Warriors, you are the best. If you had stood together as you do now, the Demon would not have lived to see a single dawn on the first ring. It is with great honor that we shall collect the Fugative, and any he has drawn to him. Then, we shall signal the fleet, and begin the great journey. These fools shall realize their folly as they witness our ascention, and they are left behind!" With a roar, the entire group loaded themselves onto Phanotms and Apparitions. The Justicar waited a brief moment, wraped in the religious contemplation that was his only emotion before boarding the ship that would convey him to the surface.
"I saw it, there, in the sewers...for just a second. All hunched over, skin pale white beneath those rags...so many rags. The vermin crawled about his feet like idolaters at worship, and I swear that the wind drew breath in a frightened gasp at his passing. He wore cold like a cloak and I swear that behind that smiling golden mask he was laughing at me as his curved blade rose and fell, cutting through my men. It left wounds filled with crystals of salt...the screams...the screams...and the pants....Gods! The Pants!!!"
-Captain Urtin, who salted and ate his former soldiers."Jar-Jar you're a genius!"