They stood with the resolve of true soldiers, battled hardened combatants whose years - even prior to their service with the Cataclysm - were spent on the battlefield. The rain-soaked sky above lingered, yet didn't seem to touch them. They broadcasted their position mentally and physically. The imposing nature of themselves, the gestation of their life once more given. Rescued from turmoils and trepiditions. Some had even forsaked their morals, their very nature. Wantom murder for hire, or even murder for the pure sake of murder. They became something less than they'd been meant to be, and for that they expected nothing but punishment. 

Instead, they were redeemed. Brought back into the fold, made Val'garan once more. Their lives restored to them. It was a miraculous thing, the way The Will looked upon them. His eyes showed nothing but admiration for them. If they'd known it, they would have called it love. Yet, in their long lives they never experienced that particuar emotion. They called it nothing but the connection between them. The bond that spread amongst the few standing on that hilltop was strong. Strong enough to be sensed by an outsider with the touch for it. And yet, should he choose to try and usurp that bond, to force himself into it - to even touch it with the slightest hint of a breath of wind, it would sear his mind from his body. The burn of it would reduce his body to ashes, his soul to embers, and his very existence nothing more than a memory - and a foul one at that. 

So, they broadcast it. They cared little for what the petulant child of a weak God wanted, nor what he thought he could do to them - what power he thought he held over them. He was nothing, a speck of dust that was better off a brown stain on his parent's sheets. They allowed him to sense them, to find them - they did nothing to hide themselves. In fact, even as rain poured down on the surface of everything else - the clouds above them broke. A perfect cylinder, allowing the light of Soran's sun to shine down upon them, a beam that revealed them all the more clearly. They stood shoulder to shoulder, so to speak. Nasty snarls and vicious, nigh-venemous smirks on their faces. 

A few steps ahead, The Hellion stood next to The Will. His eyes followed the movements of Singar, and his senses followed the progress of Disciple. That one simply would not die, would he? Why would Singar allow that, though? His precious lapdogs, his precious toys. The man was a pure manifestation of greed, but Hellion doubted the other even knew the folly of his plans. His machninations meant nothing to the true Horde, they cared only for their tenants. Tenants Disiple betrayed. Ideals Thane put to the side, in order to further his personal goals. And these few, these pathetic, ignorant children sought to have a soverign above him? Above those who remained true to their cause? They never deserved the titles they held. 

[i] "Prepare yourselves, Collective. They come. They bring battle." [/i] Will spoke to them through their bond, the words flowed mind-to-mind. Singar might think to hear their thoughts, but the bond was everlasting and protected. So, Will wished him luck if he honestly thought he could try something so pathetic. 

[i] "Not all of them, Father. I sense Thane the Disgraced and some other creature departing the planet, should I stop them?"[/i] Hellion's words flowed with venom, and even as he spoke his muscles - both mental, physical, and otherwise, flexed. It was like a vast pressure put to bear on the planet, nearly breaking through the upper layer of the crust. The pressure would be felt by nearly anything on the planet with enough nerves to register it. Though, only a few would understand or even know the cause. 

[i] "I think not, Hellion. Let them leave, they're of little consequence."[/i] 

[i] "As you wish, father."[/i] 

The pressure alleviated, though it only remained for a scant moment it was a welcome relief to those unable to withstand it. As Thane and Metal Mayhem broke through the atmosphere and into space, they passed through the grayness of a now seemingly benign section of the Mist, which encapsulated the planet. For them, it would seem nothing more than just another layer of clouds on top of the last. Almost as immediately as they passed through, it reformed - and a pressure of smaller force took the place of the first. The planet was quarantined. Locked down. Nothing could make it back in or out. Not until this battle was resolved, one way or another. 

Lightning broke across the surface of that layer of clouds, and tore down through the ordinary clouds below. The storm above them became enigmatic, and again only a few would truly understand the cause of that - what it meant, or what it could be. Time would tell, and Singar would soon find out how utterly unprepared he truly was - as the poisoned rain began to fall. Hellion licked some from his lips, and smiled as it fizzled out useless. 

[i] "Let the dance begin, Singar."[/i] 

Hellion dispersed, his body blowing into millions of particles and reforming below - directly in the path of Singar. Awaiting his arrival. The others remained, their eyes focused onto Disciple - preparing to finally end this pathetic cretin's banal existence.