[@Flamelord]

[h2][center] - Company Master Dromarius - [/center][/h2]

Ba'al had indeed restrained himself. Dromari, however, did not. After a moment of stunned silence, he burst out laughing, the bellowing sound echoing through the forested area for a full twenty or so seconds. By the time he finally calmed down he was practically in tears, having almost dropped his thunder hammer. All this was with no care for the enemies around him. "Oh man. Ah. Damn. It's been over a hundred years since I last got a laugh like that. Gonna ruin my reputation. Ha! Oh well." He walked forward, never breaking eye contact with Ba'al, as if daring him to do something. "If that's all I have to worry about, then I think we're fine." His grin was one of a man who already knew he'd won, although the humour of the situation might be lost on the Goa'Uld.

"So I heard you Goa'Uld like playing tactician. So let's play, shall wel? There are no bombs in Imperium territory. The entire place is guarded by an army of psychics, many of which have the ability to see the future, read your mind, or even to simply make you tell them to truth. The Throne City itself is so well guarded, you don't get in without being screened by an Interromancer. Your whole life story, every dark little secret in your brain, in a little kiosk in under five minutes. And don't even joke about getting in there unseen. The place is crawling with psychics who could sense your sneaky little intentions half a mile away, and our entire territory is monitored by sensory equipment so sensitive it could measure the length of your dick from space. I could keep explaining this to you, but suffice to say that in order to bluff your bluff has to be believable, and yours is not." Dromari slowly walked forward as he explained this, small smile on his face, not caring for the life of him that Ba'al could probably kill him at any moment.

"With that away, let's talk about here, shall we? Chances are, you're a hologram. See, if you were here, I coulda hit you with a missile or something, and no fancy-smancy shield is going to protect you from that. And from what I hear, you xenos value your lives more than that. So you sat here, knowing I couldn't hurt you, and talk big. Chances are also you put one of those Narca-bombs somewhere over here, maybe hidden in plain sight, or under a bush or something. I get out of line, become a threat, you destroy everything here. Destroy my full troop deployal, lose nothing of value, right? And all the time you sit in your fancy little chair laughing at human incompetence. Yeah, I've faced your type before. Scheming little bastard with no real fight in ya." He was standing only a few metres away from Ba'al now. "Possible these weren't your plans at all, at which point I just came up with better preparations than you did. But real question is what I'm going to do about it. Answer is that I'm going to teleport most of my troops back up" indicators would show this had already happened, and troops had been disappearing during his entire monologue "and then I'm going to see just how much you value your life."

"You see, there's a reason you haven't been involved in any wars yet. It's because you're not worth fighting. Because for all your grand standing, you're nothing more than a tiny xenos race that feels great because it owns a couple of dozen solar systems. Your bombs are your only answer to troop conflicts cuz you don't have an army, and you certainly don't have a fleet worth talking about. So you start this fight, we wipe out your little hold on Arcadia. Maybe personally, or maybe we just point the bugs in the right way. And we follow you through your little portal into your home universe, and we massacre your entire damn species." He smiled, and it was the smile of a man who knew he might die, and didn't care. "So decide now. Blow up your little bomb, fire a shot, do whatever little doomsday plan you have, and doom yourself. Or you can walk away and sit back down in the corner. Your call."