Orthus was among the Drones on the ground, its upper pair of eyes lazily watching its winged siblings sweep ahead. Orthus was behind them, and even most of its ground born siblings, steadily tearing through terrain with its claws. It laughed, a deep chuckle thrumming in its throat. "So driven! So excitable! This is a victory almost assured." Its' voice boomed after them. Unable to truly smile, its mouth pulled further back.
Orthus was normally a lazy creature. Slow and methodical. But its' mind buzzed currently, energy not entirely of its own coursing through it. It hadn't been too pleased about having left Ursa, but the call of its siblings, and the order of Mother had it hauling its bulk after them. And now the thread of fury swept through Orthus. It inhaled a huge gust of air, taking in the musty, wet scent of Canis.
Its glittering eyes searched about rning glittering eyes onto the bone towers. "Perfect..." it hummed, a hungry edge to its voice. Orthus let out a booming laugh, and its lazy trot gradually became a barreling charge. The hum of war grew stronger with every footstep. "So many shapes! So many textures! I love it!" Its' jaws snapped shut on the center of the first bone tower with a heavy thunk. The first one began to collapse in on itself, but it fell in a pile of bones and white dust. An utter mess. And it was all over Orthus. "Aargh!" Orthus cried in frustration. "How disgusting! Truly hellish!"
Though it desired to continue helping its siblings, it couldn't resist the urge to fix everything. Orthus turned its jaws onto the mess around it, scooping up and chewing through as many bones as possible. Some turned to powder in its mouth, and some broke into smaller chunks. And then, a devious little idea hit its brain. "Devastating!" It complained once more, as loud as it could through a mouthful of half-chewed bone. "Someone must clean this mess up! I'm afraid I'm too occupied to help!" Occupied with new tastes, that is. Humming beneath its breath, Orthus mentally set aside the takeover of Canis. It would still do that of course, but everyone needed a break now and then. And all that erecting barricades was so much work. Anyone would agree that Orthus deserved to take it slow.
What was the harm in a little taste testing course? There were plenty of other Drones to fulfil its niche. No one would notice if Orthus moved a smidge slower in cleaning the bone pile. If it took longer to go back to building barricades due to its suspiciously leisurely cleaning tactic. Surely none of the other drones or Mother would be paying attention to it, specifically. Its' eyes glowed with focus as it evaluated each bone.
It picked each up methodically, one at a time. Much slower than it was capable of moving if it were truly motivated. Orthus rolled the bones around in it's maw, savoring their unique tastes and textures before it crushed them. They cracked or fizzled beneath its jaws, and Orthus was satisfied. As it enjoyed its' meal, it set up little organized piles of what it considered the tastiest, mumbling softly to itself about the various pairings it could imagine. The femurs, finely aged, were to pair with icicles in the future. The skulls? They would go fine with some river pebbles or rocky soil. The big ones it would enjoy sandwiched between two chunks of ice.
Siren arrives. Its tentacles move it through the cave. Mother has called, and the being will do what it must. Siren does not feel particularly useful here, but it will try its best. Surely Mother would be proud if it did? Siren hopes so.
The drone watches the others do what they do, and decides to try and remove some of the bacteria just in case... Perhaps they could spread mother in those places too, while at it.
And so it begins, Alcina whispers along the link, mainly to herself as she slinks over the piles of bones. The cave beckons, and so do Mother's orders.
Fire burns in her black eyes, shining as her jaws yawn open as she scans the room. Piles of bones reach towards the ceiling - a suitable place to stage an ambush.
Striding to one, Alcina digs in claws, sending bones scattering as she clambers onto her new perch. It's not a particularly steady position, and she struggles to keep her balance, but eventually she manages to hunker down, silent and watching.
Some might have appreciated the extra surge of adrenaline and ecstasy for the cause that Mother's encouragement injected into the very souls of all linked to her splendor: newer recruits, perhaps, or those whose roles were better suited for delicate tasks of subterfuge and had not been solely honed for the tumult of wartime. The Skyreaver had required none, as much as the boost benefited his drive. Time spent yearning for real action over mere practice runs had built a mighty store of potential energy deep within bones, the force enough that he could almost swear his entire skeleton would snap if a single drop more were to fill it. To hear orders at last was to light a match. A single spark proved enough to ignite the whole tank of gasoline.
Palling around on the ground with the foot soldiers could be left to those lacking other options. For the duration of the march, he preferred the air—the best and only decent way to travel. Upon reaching their destination, Ace dove full throttle into the cavern, following right on the tail of his fellow flier. He corkscrewed and narrowly avoided collision with the stalactites jutting down from the low ceiling. Inarticulate growls and snarls were issued in challenge at the obstacle course he'd entered. Then another twist in space, and he diverged his flight path from Bone's to run counter to it.
"All right, let's get this massacre on wings moving!" Clearly intended as a means to further pump himself up, so reverberating was this first bellow that it might as well have been directed at any creature within the area. "Set yourselves up, get ready to crack some skulls, and look real alive! 'Cause we're gonna have to make up for a whole lot of dead and dumb."
The point of circling around Canis was to scope out any threats to landbound troops so none could be taken unawares. When a pack of triple-headed canines spawned from one in as little as an eye's blink and advanced upon the Hive barking out demands, it didn't take much more to assume this activity called for a bit of attention. If this was Chaos scum, Ace would welcome the satisfaction of scratching the maddening itch he had for a fight. If not, and still opposition came, he wouldn't mind smacking down that sort of foolishness either. Until the truth of the matter was revealed, though, the lowest level of conflict would have to be engaged in: flexing muscles and getting the interloper to step aside for Order's campaign of stability and discipline.
"Hey, no need to wear out your woof there," was what the Drone opened up with, swooping down so he could be better heard and admired despite neither being remotely necessary. "I go by Skyreaver, and you can call the rest pest control. We're just here to clean out some filth round these parts: the real nasty, Oily sort."
"Unless you're into that, I'd recommend scramming," he declared, "else I can't guarantee you won't catch a bit of hurt yourself."
Forelegs clashed against each other to seal the ultimatum, their hook ends poised to strike.
At least that might be the initial impression. In reality, since Ace had no idea of the capabilities of his opponent, muscles were tensed to dodge first and hit afterward. It'd do no good for the war effort if the designated air support couldn't escape being grounded.
Not that it would ever happen. What kind of idiot failed at basic evasive maneuvers?
