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Chapter Text

Dust kicked up, disturbed by the scuffle of the iron lord's boots, he lingered in the shade of a tree, letting the shrubs and foliage hide most of his armor clad form, wondering if all his plotting and calculations would be paid in kind.

Really he'd been going out on a limb, a very dangerous one, no one took his ideas seriously anymore, they thought him mad, but were too cowardice to speak these truths to the young warlock's face, But he Wasn't blind and their lack of faith in him was as clear as glass, Either way  he hadn't let their cynicism cloud his judgement, he had a strong feeling about this!

And so he derived a plan, to them it would seem to be an accidental meeting, purely by chance, in reality it was a meticulously orchestrated plan, Sure, indeed he would be searching the bunker like he announced he would, but only now would do.

See, as of today, if his prediction rang true, a notorious war lord would be on the prowl seeking out the same seraph bunker as he, one with a reputation to be cut throat and a impressive tally of final deaths to back his title, The iron lords had been keeping close tabs on the nefarious warlord Felwinter, keeping keen note that warlord roamed and vanished on regular bases.

It took years to connect the dots, but Timur had managed to align this unpredictable risen with the breached seraph bunker, Until now, every bunker the iron lords had excavated were already breached and it's data stolen or destroyed, whether this was a result of the bunker's security breach protocols, or if the data was actively being deleted Timur couldn't say.

He highly doubted the lord knew of the complex security system of the bunkers, but he couldn't deny that Felwinter was actively hunting for seraph bunkers with a curiously keen interest, going as far as to travel into old russia to seek the bunkers out.

This warlord was searching for something just like the iron lords, what that "something" was, is more then a intriguing mystery to the warlock, he had an edge they lacked, and knowledge they desperately needed.

So Timur alone decided he would confront this warlord, and urge him to join their ranks...At least, if the man actually shows that is, the iron lord was there purely on hypotheses, whether he knows it or not, this Felwinter moved in a pattern, almost a spiral and if Timur's prediction was correct, this bunker would be his next target.

As it stood, this would be the first time one of the iron lords beat the warlord to a bunker first, now it was only a matter of timing, He can clearly see the bunker is locked, it's doors sealed behind a red firewall, meaning he'd either have had to breach the others or this particular bunker was a Anomaly...

highly doubtful but not impossible.

The mothyards were ominously still, Timur licked his chapped lips, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter, he spotted nothing.

Despite almost four hours rolling by, his efforts so far were turning out fruitless, again and again the iron lord had to mentally stomp down the mental dread of trekking back empty handed, It wasn't as if anyone knew what he was up to, but it would prove that those who doubted him... they were right and he was likely over thinking this whole situation...maybe he was going mad.

Against his better judgment Timur allowed himself to be distracted by a rare but potent bout of self pity, His eyes settling on his dusty boots as his eye brows pinched in frustration and thought, In Timur's moping the iron lord, failed to notice the creeping shadow swiftly advancing from south of his admittedly crappy "hiding spot"

It was his ghost's swift screech of alarm and his trained reflexes that saved the man's head from catching the shot gun's spray of bullets.

The roar of the bullets deafened the iron lord's ear as Timur dropped into a crouch and used the momentum to dive to the left for cover, a cloud of sandy debris kicked up aided by the mans retreat.

Timur recovered quickly, already drawing his lash seconds before he was fully on his feet, his left hand tingling as a arc grenade danced furiously in his open palm.

By no means was Timur a slow or disadvantaged warrior, and it seemed his assailant was aware of that fact too.

They kept their distance, far out of the range of his lash, and farther yet for his grenade, all the while giving him little time to strategize, or catch his bearings, four more shots went off, forcing Timur to dodge roll out of the angry barrel's line of fire, He was dumbly astounded by the range of the man's weapon, from what he saw it looked to be a shotgun, but the weapon's range was obscene as was it's reload!

But as seconds flew by it became apparent, the bullets had been Lazily fired and easily dodged without harm, Timur realized far too late that he was being herded back solely with sound and panic, to the rear of the bunker, there the land rose up towards the sky on both sides creating a steep caged in dead end, If the warlord intended to kill him, Timur would have to fight his way out of this mess.

Well this wasn't how he planned things to go, but that never thwarted the warlock before, he sought Felwinter but the warlord had found him first.

"Sdavat'sya!" The words of the harsh russian command filled the void of silence left by the wake of gunshots booming echos.

With his back facing towards the wall of rock and soil, Timur is forced to face down his assailant, he did so calmly, recognizing the Russian command and slowly raising his lash and diminishing the arc festering within his palm.

"Alright, alright I Give, are you going to kill me now, warlord?"

Finally settling his eyes upon the warlord he had pursued so insistently over the past year was a surreal feeling, he wasn't what he expected at all, much shorter actually Timur thought with displaced amusement and maybe a little disappointment.

It was common for a warlord with a reputation as infamous as Felwinter's to fit the bill a bit more, luxurious armor, grotesquely over built walking tanks, commonly flocked by a dozen followers or underlings, indeed Timur had fell prey to these expectations as well, fully expecting someone more, formidable..maybe bigger?

but no, non of that, just a single lanky warlock and his gun..

"That depends on your answer, did Citaan send you?"

Timur noted the smooth switch from languages, he must have been fluent in both.

"No, I don't know who that is.."

Timur lied, he knew better then to associate himself with any other warlords, even if he had heard of the warlord, reports of his tyranny were widespread by now, it was of little coincidence the Iron lords caught wind, and they didn't intend for his reign to last much longer.

"Don't play dumb, why are you following me, and what do you need with this thing?"

Felwinter gave a jerk of his head towards the bunker, while Timur still scrambled for an excuse, he should have had this thought out, but seeing as he didn't foresee events taking this turn he was unprepared.

"I'm an iron lord, we are tasked with collecting as much data as we can from these things..who are you?"

Timur went for as close to the truth as he dared all while still feigning ignorance, it's not like the iron lord's overall goals were very much a secret now were they?

"There's a likelihood that you could be lying, but doesn't matter seeing as your alone, just stay out of my way, and as for the bunker...you cant have it, not yet at least.."

"I bag your pardon?"

"Why were you following me?"
The warlord asked again, clearly he still found Timur's presence suspicious.

"I-im not following you! I just told you I need the information inside, this bunker's intel is vital to our operations, what business do you have with it?"

"None of your business, I'll take what I need and be out of your hair."

"On the contrary, the iron lords have staked claim over this and all other seraph bunkers, no one will be tempering with it or its contents without iron lord Radegast's decree!"

"You would stop me?" The warlord inquired with a slow tilt of his peculiar helmet.

There's a cocky edge to the warlord's voice, it sounds suspiciously like amusement, and it immediately pisses Timur off, was he underestimating him?! Did he really think he could out match him with a single shot gun and his light alone?!

Foolish, Timur felt a sardonic smile creeping up under his helmet as he eyed down the warlord, the foolish man had risen his head towards the sky, seemingly entranced by the colors of the waning light, Heeding little the formidable risen he had just challenged before him, It was a window of opportunity, a blatant opening likely the only he'd ever get to catch the man off guard, and he foolishly took it.

Arc silently crackling to life in his palm the iron lord darted forward, just as the warlord jerked backwards, in response to his sudden movements, Thunder careened across the ground as his grenade collided with the solid earth between them as he closed the gap between them.

He felt his fist collide with the warlord's peculiar helmet, despite the warlord rearing back, and the blunt force as the impact rippled up his arm, But to Timur's surprise Felwinter recovered much faster then he expected, flinching but a second before darting forward into Timur's personal space.

The moment his arm raised poised to strike it was too late, Timur realized he was baited, the warlord had accepted the hit in prediction of this opening.

Felwinter's hand struck out towards his throat and hit it's mark with devastating precision and force, Timur's eyes widened in shock as blood sprayed out from arteries and tendons ruptured under the brutal strike.

But Timur had little time to acknowledge the pain himself, as the moment the warlord pulled his hand back he quickly ended the assault with a swift and powerful kick to the iron lord's chest, the air forcing itself from his bleeding throat as his lungs crumpled against the solid impact of the warlord's metal boots.

Timur hardly felt when his body hit the ground, his vision blotted and hazy from pain and confusion, choking and gasping for air, He curled in on himself, quivering as overwhelming shockwaves rolled through him, mentally willing to his ghost to stay away despite it's urgent exclamations.

He heard the warlord approach, and managed to make out his figure through tear stung eyes, the warlord had his hands clasped behind his back, as he studied Timur, then Felwinter sighed heavily in blatant disapproval, as if shaming a particularly unruly child, the grass creaking under his heavy boots as he circled the fallen man, he could feel sharp eyes assessing him, then the brush of strong gloved hands as they swiftly bound his own behind his back with material that felt like wire.

"My aim was for your sternomastoid, but..."

The warlord's voice trailed off as he turned away from the iron lord dismissively, only to begin to rummaging through Timur's discarded travel bags, What he was looking for the iron lord had no clue, he would find nothing worth stealing. Timur always traveled light save for required gear, but the warlord's words irked a response out of the recovering man.

"But..?!"

Timur rasped, prompting where the man left off, his voice rough and raw from choking, Breathing felt like a painful chore, but even then he could hear the venom behind his words, he was doing a terrible job at hiding how irate he was becoming, and Timur hardly cared!

Nothing was going as he had planned in his head, his throat throbbed with searing pain, puffy and rapidly swelling, swiftly coagulating blood stained his tongue and had slipped into the crevices of his armour and was starting to itch something fierce.

"You moved and I caught your trachea instead, if you move again, there's a high chance that I might miss again..." Felwinter stated as if it was obvious, his attention still lost on Timur's belongings.

The blatant threat sent a chill up Timur's spine, he didn't fear death, hell the warlock had cheated it more then he'd rather admit, but no risen particularly enjoys pain, No, he was no masochist and Felwinter made it Very clear, that he wouldn't hesitate to hurt the iron lord again if he felt necessary.

So Timur wouldn't give him a reason to, not if he could help it..

He did what any logical man in his predicament would do, he sat with his ass planted and glared daggers at the warlord rudely shifting through his belongings.

His chest felt bruised from the blow he took to the sternum, tight and restricted like a boulder pinned under ropes, He found himself wheezing in air and once again he wished he could get away so his ghost could safely heal him.

What a mess this was all becoming, this whole thing seems like such a plainly ridiculous idea now, Felwinter either didn't believe Timur was an iron lord, or he doesn't care to, neither cases are much good for him, however did he plan to sway the man to join the iron lord's ranks again...?

Chapter Text

The sun was setting, its red rays straining against the sand and stone, shadows were rising higher and higher as the temperature dropped.

Hopefully the others would start looking for him, but he had a reputation to vanish for days on end, it would be at least 3 before they even thought to check up on him...

"You travel light for an iron lord..." Felwinter commented thoughtfully, meticulously placing Timur's belongings back into his leather bags.

Timur was brought out of his thoughts by Felwinter's voice, turning just in time to catch the war lord's coattails, as he quickly vanished around the bunker before the man could muster a reply.

There was a heartbeat in which everything was silent, no footfalls of the warlord, no engines and Timur considered this might be his chance for escape, slowly He leaned up, craning his neck in an attempt to see around the corner, there was no sign of the war lord..

Perhaps he lost interest, left him to the dergs, maybe this was his chance to escape! but as soon as his heart rose at the idea, it was smashed down as the warlord in question reappeared.

The small glimmer of hope in Timur's chest fell flat, and so did his moral, dropping his down head as if it could make him disappear, he did his best to avoid bringing any more attention to himself, things were looking bad as it was.

Felwinter paid little attention to him as he passed, he seemed in the midst of a heated conversation with what Timur assumed was his ghost, what language it was, neither Russian nor english, and Timur could not connect it to any languages he had encountered in his travels.

But they seemed to reach an agreement by the third time he reappeared for the last time, something caught Timur's sharp eye, clasped in the arms of the warlord was a large clutch of data hubs, the Clovis Bray insignia engraved in the clutch's shiny metal lid stared back at the dumbfounded warlock.

Those scrolls were presumably from the warmind bunker...!

But how?!

Timur's ego felt stung, It took them at least a day to breach the bunker's interface and even then a few more hours to hack into the saraph bunker's firewalls, and he left for only but a second..how?

Felwinter loaded the clutch into a sparrow, hidden amongst the leaves of a dying elm, leaning against a stoney protrusion that much to Timur's chagrin was hidden straight across from his hiding place, How long was he squatting here? It was obviously before Timur himself arrived.

"Hey! Where are you going with that? I told you this bunker's contents are under protection of the iron lords! You can't just take th-"

Timur choked on his words, his panic more at the thought of the warlord leaving with the data, and knowledge that he was actively being followed and thus covering his tracks more thoroughly, and making the difficult task of tracking him impossible.

Timur's lungs burned trying to push air through his bruised throat, it was fastly becoming problematic but Timur had little time to consider it, as Felwinter finished loading up the sleek black sparrow, and looked to be preparing to depart!

But still he lingered, Felwinter's ghost had visually manifested, hugging close to the warlord's shoulder, whispering and casting curious glances Timur's way and oddly enough Felwinter's helmet followed suit, both eerily turning to stare at the iron lord in usion, the silent intensity of both risen and ghost's leer sent a shiver up Timur's spine, just what had they been discussing...?

"Be quick about it" is all the ghost says, there's something cold in it's commending voice, the makes Timur shrink back and mentally will his ghost to stay as far away as possible.

The war lord's ghost drags it's sharp singular gaze away from him to stare at it's risen pointedly, the point it was silently conveying to the warlord was lost on Timur, but it wasn't until he saw Felwinter withdrew a small dagger from his belt that Timur started fearing for the worst.

"I guess I better deal with you.."

Felwinter sighed as the war lord slowly closed the gap between them before pausing, the dagger in his hand glinted with malicious promise, the iron Lord had little suspicion as to what he intended to do with it, his heart started hammering in his chest, steeling himself for the pain that had yet to come.

He reminded himself that even if the warlord slit his throat and bled him dry he wouldn't truly fall, there would be no final death.. not so long as his ghost heeded his warning and stayed well hidden.

The moment seemed to last forever as still Felwinter remained motionless, much like he had previously done, the warlord had stalled mid step, glancing upward to the star filled sky the action oddly similar to his actions before he struck Timur down, then the warlord cast his gaze into the night, presumably sweeping the perimeter

But it only lasted but a second, one moment he was standing still entranced by the sky, the next he was lashing forward with the dagger, it was all a blur and in the face of confusion Timur hardly realized the warlord had simply cut the tight binding his hands.

"I'M NOT WITH SATEEN- I SWEAR! Do-"

Timur yelped trying and failing to scramble back, he didn't have time to understand why his movements were so groggy and clumsy before the warlord's hands had caught and wrapped firmly around his neck.

"Stop struggling!" The warlord gritted out as Timur jerked back, flinching violently at the feel of the rough worn leather against his throat, they were firm even as he tried and failed to pry away his grip.

When Felwinter's thumbs rested on his larynx, Timur clinched his eyes shut, hands still scrambling uselessly against the unyielding arms of the warlord, he fully expected the pain of warlord to crushing his windpipe, But it never came instead he felt heat resonate from the hands as warm light spelt from between his fingers, the pain straining against his windpipe subsided replaced by soothing heat.

"See, isn't that better?" The warlord soothed his voice low, as his fingers glided up and down his neck, despite himself Timur found himself sighing in relief as breathing became drastically easier, the pain had been so deafening, he felt almost light headed in its absence, hardly realizing he had subconsciously leaned into the warlord's hold, mindlessly chasing the light his body recognised as salvation.

"I know, You're an iron lord, I saw your bond in the bag.. "

Felwinter spoke slowly as if he expected the words he was enounciating to be hard for Timur to understand, this patronising behavior would have initially pissed him off but the hands at his throat were anything if not somewhat distracting.

"Hey!" The warlord's sharp bark had Timur jerking upright, when had he leaned so far and why was the world spinning so fast all of a sudden...?

Felwinter was still talking, in clipped short sentences but still agitatedly articulate, which was strange because Timur could only make out bits and factions of the words the man was saying.

Suddenly, Felwinter stopped talking, and while Timur couldn't see his face it was apparent he was being scrutinized, why he didn't know, but the warlord spared him little time to inquire, In a swift movement Felwinter snatched his hands away from his neck, only to swiftly bring them back down across each side of Timur's cheeks.

" Owww!" Timur screeched in a pitch that would bring even a war lord shame, but in his defense Felwinter's methods of waking his mind up was nothing less than savage... No wonder the warlord had such an obnoxious kill tally, the man seriously needed to calm the hell down with all this violence.

"What in the name of the traveler's light is wrong with you!?"

Timur yelled, yanking the warlord's offending hands from his face, his face flush and stinging.

"Your throat is swelling, you may be experiencing mild symptoms of hypoxia, you should have your ghost fix that before you fall out..my rift can only do so much" to his credit Felwinter at least sounded somewhat apologetic, maybe he really did miss..

Obviously this warlord had an issue with personal space, the iron lord noted with ire, it took but a few seconds from the moment his hands were yanked away for Timur to find moments later they reattached themselves to his shoulder, steadying his form.

"Why? So you can miss and blast the blazing lights out of it, is that what you do to all your enemies? Maim them into pulling out their ghost?! Well I didn't bring mine!" Timur sneered pettily, Trying to push the warlord away so he could stand.

"Don't be foolish, I have no need for your gho- I don't need to fight you nor do I seek to make an enemy of the iron lords" the warlord ignored Timur's fussing, latching on to the warlock's shoulder with a firm and unyielding grip and hulled him to his feet.

Timur managed to stand albeit with Felwinter's aid and despite the wave of dizziness that clung to his head, the warlord lingered close but decidedly gave the iron lord space, even though it did little to qual Timur's distress, he's at the end of his wits and about two seconds away from telling the warlord how many unique ways he can piss off when a strange hissing noise cuts through the night.

It's a sound both men recognise long before the arc grenade strikes the ground behind them, quickly Felwinter attempts to kick the grenade away but only managing to clear a few feet before it explodes into a burst of arc and flames, the explosion knocking both man back, Timur hits the ground with a solid thud, with the amount of blood he can taste in the back of his throat Timur is certain he's broken his nose, and can feel flames actively eating away at the fabric between his armor.

He didn't have time to lament his destroyed wardrobe though, because through the dust and debris he can just make out the distorted form of a dreg rushing forward, flanked by several floating shanks, further behind it many infernal blue eyes glowed menacingly from the shadows, it was the fallen... they don't scare Timur, but he does wish he'd been forced to fight under...more favorable circumstances.

The dreg recklessly launches itself at him as if the foolish creature expected him to just lie still and let it kill him, sadly it's assumptions only led it to meet his spiked boot, he felt the creature's chest give under the force of his kick with a satisfying crunch, a deafening screech bursting from behind it's respirator as it collapses to his side.

Quickly scrambling to his feet Timur immediately grabs for the fallen dreg's shock daggers, hurtling one at the nearest shank, not slowing to watch as it explodes into bits of falling metal, he's certain their surrounded but It's hard to count how many there are with his head is still spinning, much to his frustration he misses his next target, forced to duck behind a rock as the shank retaliates with a tireless flow of arc bullets.

Visually He's lost track of Felwinter since the explosion, but the sound of his shotguns hungry fire can be heard shattering the night and even deafening the sound of the skirmish around them.

"Hey Iron lord!" Timur's head whipped around with confusion as a feminine voice sounded to his left, he only managed to catch a glimpse of the ghost transmitting away, but to his surprise he found the ghost left his lash against the rock!

He doesn't have time to ponder why the war lord's ghost would be so amicable, instead he grabbed his lash and immediately whipped around the rock firing, downing the shank with two precision shots.

To his lament he realized it must have been a whole pack of fallen attacking them, as the bodies were piling up and still more were flooding into the fray, it quickly became apparent this was a more coordinated ambush and not just a simple skirmish...

He finally located Felwinter across the bunker, the warlord's shotgun had just taken off a vandal's head, even though he seemed to be holding his own the warlord was cradling a limp arm, red sparks danced curiously along the damaged appendage and Timur had to wonder if the warlord's arc bomb had misfired, clinging to the man's flesh instead...no grenade arc, void or otherwise should burn more the a few minutes..not to mention that colour...

Timur's wandering mind and flayed focus landed him between a rock and a hard place as finally a fallen captain decided to make her presence known, it's war cry deafened Timur's ears it was almost as intrusive as the war lord's shotgun, the creature's call must have been a rallying cry or something because the fallen's aggressiveness increased tenfold forcing Timur to empty round after round into the flood of swift moving targets.

Unlike her goons the captain did not approach the risen instead she swiftly skirted around the clearing, the warlock attempted to track her ridiculously fast movements but by the time Timur realized her intentions it was too late, the fallen captain, launched herself to the top of the bunker, swinging around with a huge rocket launcher hefted on the shoulder of her primary arms and let loose a flurry of rockets.

Neither men were prepared for the rocket launcher's blast, the captain was clever enough to use range as her advantage, sending rocket after rocket, Timur was forced to dive for cover as a rocket missed him by a second instead colliding into the warlord's sparrow with a thundering explosion.

"Fuck!" He heard Felwinter cry somewhere to his left as the sparrow was launched into the air, bits of metal debris flying every which way as the warlord's sparrow was reduced to charred metal before hitting the ground with a loud crash.

Timur couldn't find it in his petty heart to actually feel bad for the warlord who kept him bound for over an hour, but he did agree that it was indeed a unfortunate waste of a perfectly good vehicle, and it wouldn't be the only thing wasted if they didn't put a stop to that captain soon.

Interestingly enough, the murder of his sparrow was all it seemed to take to actually piss the warlord off, Timur tore his eyes away from the burning vehicle just in time to witness the warlord back hand a vandal so hard Timur could actually hear the tendons between it's insectoid body tearing as it's whole upper body was ripped clear from it's torso in a spray of either and blood.

" What in the..." Timur muttered as the warlock's hand finds his own bruised and swelling throat subconsciously, right then and there he makes a mental note to never attempt to engage in close range combat with the war lord ever again before throwing himself back into the fray, he shoots down two vandals before they even have time to raise their weapons, static energy coilates in his palm as he readies a arc grenade.

Unfortunately the captain sees his approach early on, nimbly dancing away with a loud choking hiss, as the bastard dodges mere seconds before Timur's grenade hits the ground where she once was, launching herself atop the bunker's highest ridge as she drew from her belt a gnarled and worn weapon, Timur recognised as the eliksni equivalent of a shotgun, screaming a aggressive command in a language the iron lord didn't care to understand the captain turns all her attention onto the iron lord, whilst it's followers like a hive minded unit follow suit.

Timur is forced to fight through hoards of fallen dregs mindlessly throwing themselves at him for the soul purpose of distracting him from their leader, he drives a crackling hand forward blasting through three vandals and shank charging towards him, he's just about to aim his lash at another target when suddenly he feels a violent tug yanking him off balance and backwards, it's only takes seconds for the intense pain to set in as the dreg's teeth puncture the thinner armor of his arm, trashing savagely no doubt trying to take his whole arm off.

Timur's just about to beat the little beast off with the butt of his lash, when he heard Felwinter scream a warning, what the warning was Timur couldn't hear because suddenly everything was loud and roaring in his ears, he just had enough time to feel his stomach flip as he turned to face the oncoming missile.

He tried to brace the best he could but it was no use, the iron lord and dreg were launched back by the impact and sent colliding into the stone rockface with deadly force, Timur yelps in agony as he feels his bones shatter and give way under the force of the hard surface, somewhere to his side he distantly hears the dreg's either tank explode,followed by it's pained shriek, dumbly he moved to look towards the sound but was met with blinding pain, and the sudden realization that he couldn't move that well, most of the warlock's body felt numb, most feeling had fizzled out and replaced with pins and needles, save for his leg which had begun to twitch uncontrollably.

Well shit, looks like he's out of the game, he must have broke something serious if the pain and lack of in some places was anything to go by, unfortunate but not the first time he's been forced to wait out danger while in pain, only a fool would bring their ghost out in such a time, that would be asking for a final death, Timur learned these hard rules in his early days of being a risen.

To his left can still hear the fallen dreg choking, and chittering in pain, no doubt slowly suffocating without either, whist he can hear it moving but it's apparent, the creature is just as fucked as he is, the only differences is his ghost is there to bring him back, had he been able to move he'd have put the creature out of its miserably slow death, even your enemies feel pain and if Timur is in pain no doubt the little fuckers got it worse.

The sound of the warlord's shotgun cracks through the night pulling Timur's eyes to the fight ahead of him, Felwinter has cut his way through the ranks of fallen, recklessly engaging the large fallen in close combat, with two long daggers.

A foolish tactic in Timur's opinion, the fallen were known for their physical strength, especially with a captains ranked adversary, It was wise to stay out of their range of melees as they were fatal to mortals and very problematic to even the most skilled titans, the iron lord thought this to himself while he watched the the captain easily knock the daggers from Felwinter's grasp and send the warlord careening back as he took a blow to the stomach.

Perhaps he'd be joining him in waiting for his ghost as well..Timur wondered as he watched the fight seemingly come to a near end, the captain lurched after the downed warlock with its twin blades drawn, no doubt with the intentions to behead the warlord, But the fight abruptly came to a close when the force of a single shot from the warlord's shotgun took the fallen leader's head off it's shoulders, it's still twitching body crumpling onto the risen, the sound of hissing either escaping it's facemask was drowned out by the cries of it's fallen subordinates, even the dying dreg to his side whimpered pathetically.

Without a leader the fallen dispersed quickly, some lingering only long enough to pillage the weapons of their dead comrades before they too fled into the night leaving the clearing deathly silent, almost desolate after all the raucous noise of the skimmish.

Felwinter quickly righted himself, kicking off the headless corpse that had collapsed onto him upon death, his mask was severely damaged, a horn was bent out of place and the side panel of his helmet was torn off somewhere along the lines, but he was in better condition then Timur...

Now that the threat had passed weariness begun to set into Timur's bones, he still wasn't one hundred percents certain where exactly he stood with the war lord, he watched Felwinter cautiously scan the clearing for any lingering foes before he stalked slowly over to his ruined pike, salvaging burn materials and melted part Timur wasn't familiar with.

Felwinter must have felt the warlock's stare, the war lord's helmet twisting back curiously, searching until he seemingly pinned Timur in his sights, the iron lord's pulse sped up at Felwinter carefully set the salvaged scrap down and began to stalk his way.

"You're still here? I thought you healed up and fled...can you stand" Felwinter spoke incredulously as if he expected the warlock before him to be nothing but a spineless coward. Timur would have snapped at him again, but the moment the iron lord's eyes took in the Warlord's partially damaged helmet the words died in his mouth.

The missing metal revealed a scarlet red optic studying him with astute interest, and a small glimpse of his smooth obsidian faceplates hidden beneath the steel helmet, the warlord Felwinter was an Exo...

Timur even if he wasn't at his one hundred percent he was shocked, he had heard about them, even studied much about them, but he had never actually seen an Exo in the flesh...or whatever it was they had.

Unfortunately caught up in his revelation, he failed to answer the warlord's inquiry, and said warlord assumed the worst in absence of his vocal confirmation, taking the initiative to act on his own assumptions, Timur hardly had time to stop the Exo once he bent down to collect him.

-OW Fuck! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Timur yelped in alarm, pain igniting through his body as Felwinter swiftly hauled him up and over his shoulder with little warning, the iron lord wheezed miserably as the the air was forced from his lungs, the movement was all it took for his body to recognize just how much pain he was really in, which unfortunately was more then he initially assumed.

"They won't be gone long, never are...We need to get you inside quickly, before they come back with reinforcements" Felwinter grunted as he turned towards the seraph bunker.

This new position provided Timur with a good eyeful of his surroundings, the wall in which he slammed into was streaked with blood, no doubt his own, luminescent splatters of wet either stained the ground a little ways away where the dreg had collided with the stone and crumpled.

Unfortunately the iron lord's suspicions were proved correct the dreg was indeed still alive, sprawled on its side, a leg was ripped from its body, it's only surviving mandible spread as it tried and repeatedly failed to breathe through the mess that was it's torn face...

" W-Wait! Stop!"
Timur cried, instantly relieved that Felwinter actually listened to hum and stilled immediately.

"What's wrong?"
"That dreg, it fell with me, it's..still suffering surly you have a spare bullet in that thing?" Timur asked, hoping the warlord wouldn't argue or worse yet refuse Timur's plea, he was in pain and his position over his shoulder was making the blood rush to his head in a nauseating manner.

"I do, but why would I waste ammo on something that will be dead soon anyway?" The warlord challenged coolly, his tone neutral and unreadable, "Because it would be wrong to leave a living being suffering unnecessarily enemy or otherwise" Timur gritted out, his eyes trained on the drag's twitching body.

"Even if that living being was hellbent on taking off your arm mer seconds ago?" The warlord clarified, still agitatedly indifferent to the matter, but also reaching for the weapon slung over his unoccupied shoulder.

"Yes I would not have requested it so had I not already considered that, if it's too much to ask I'll just do it mys-Fuck" Timur grunted, he had attempted to lean up, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure from his already bruised ribs but a sharp wave of pain shot up his spine prompting the warlock to fall back down.

"I didn't say it was a problem, I'm just curious about the logic behind it, You've damaged your back, I'd advise against moving until I can properly assess the damage" The warlord warned, extending the shotgun, his aim is shaky, his good arm preoccupied holding the warlock up, leaving only his twitching damaged arm free, the second shot hits its mark, and Timur feels the force of the weapon course through the warlord's frame.

The smell of either burns his nose, as he's carried into the safety of the saraph bunker.

Chapter Text

"There is no need to call me that, I am no warlord" the Exo answered, his voice laced with incredulity yet also resolution as if it was a mantra the Exo had repeated often enough, Timur squinted at him confusedly.

"Do you not own a vast territory? Have you not slain other warlords to ensure it's protection?"  Timur hoped his words would resonate with reason yet the warlord seemed to dismiss them much like he had his claims to be an iron lord.

"I'm simply a man trying to survive, like everyone else, nothing more, nothing less" The Exo stated while Timur tried to make sense of the situation, this was ..unexpected, the warlord seemed to be in denial of the title society bestowed upon him, or maybe it was simply Timur who had not understood the meaning behind man's words.

 "What of the people In the settlements below your peak?, do they not fall under your control as well?" Timur pushed, because what else was he to do?

"No, I just protect them." The Exo answered shortly, as he attempted to bend parts of his damaged armour back into place, Timur could see his patience waning thin but continued to push anyways.

"You just protect them..? Why?" Intrigue pushing him into question after question, many of his comrades would claim he pried much too enthusiastically, but Timur would argue that it only mattered what came of it, and more often than not his avid persistence paid off. 

"Because who else will? Is it so wrong to acknowledge the woes of being the meek and defenseless without seeking gain from it? Too unfortunate to inherit a fortune of resources that may very well pay for their lives? I am there and very aware of their plight, so long as that is so, I will protect them" 

The warlord's words were steady and calm, yet there was a steel edge present that pulled the Iron lord's eyes to the Exo's damaged helmet, only to find the Warlord's crimson optic was fixed on him and his furious gaze was not so indifferent as his voice belied.

There was a moment where he tried to hold the warlord's bold gaze but the warlock found himself backing away from the challenge, it was obvious his words were of warnings, it would be foolish not to notice the Exo's metaphorical hackles had risen, was he spooked? Or was it the knowledge of the lightless he was hiding under his wings.

"Relax no one's going to attack your people, if it puts you at ease I think our ambitions align quite closely if what you say is true that is-"

It was a terrible moment to make the proposal he had planned for nearly half a year to the man, the warlord looked as if he'd rather put a bullet through his head then chat, but perceptive as always Timur felt his window of opportunity closing in on him fast, in the sparse hours they had spent together licking their wounds and catching their wits, Exo had repaired his armor, healed his wounds and had stood, while his slow and deliberate pacing mimicked the air of calm, the warlord's facade screamed of unrest, anxiety and flight.

He was drifting closer and closer away and if he escaped this time Timur knew he would never find the man again, Felwinter would make sure of it.

But before he could even finish his proposition the warlord cut him off with his own bold proposal.

"If our ambitions align so closely why are you still bleeding, surely on even ground you would feel at ease enough to allow your ghost to heal your afflictions"

There it was again, the snark Timur had heard earlier, yet somehow it sounded much more... intriguing then it had when he first met the warlord. 

"What are you saying..?"  Timur asked eyeing the Exo standing across from him warily, finally he had fully removed his helmet, revealing the sharp edges of meticulous metal work that made up his obsidian face, the dim crimson lights that illuminated from behind his mouth plates matched the same furious hue of the optics which bore into him.

"I'm saying that there's no reason to keep up the facade, when you sent your ghost off when I engaged you, I had my ghost tale em, they are still there as we speak hiding just over the dirt ridge.. If I wanted it dead I would have killed it already"

 there was no need to check with his ghost he knew he was right, the assessment was much too confident to be a bluff, Timur found himself exhaling a small mirthless chuckle.

"So I like to play safe, can you blame me? You've quite the reputation Felwinter.." Timur allowed, dropping all pretence of ignorance.

"So, you were following me..." The Exo grunted, this face impassive but Timur could see the invisible hackles rising again and quickly tried to balm the situation.

" Not following per say! Let's just say I had a suspicion you'd be here and sought to meet you myself, if i'm going to be totally honest" 

Timur sighed, his head was beginning to pound, he had screwed this opportunity up somehow...he was sure the man would take flight any moment and vanish without a trace.

He felt dread well up within his chest as Felwinter studied him silently, he couldn't read the man well yet he was certain he looked suspicious as hell.

When the warlord spoke, it was with a tense question," Are you really alone?"  His guarded voice tinged with weary caution.

"Yes..besides my ghost, I am alone..nobody even knows where I am right now.." He took a gamble admitting the knowledge that could prove as a double edge sword, but he sought to appeal to the warlord and if baring his weaknesses would keep the skittish man planted a second longer, well then Timur would offer up his damn personal diary.

Either the Exo recognized the olive branch or the knowledge that he was vulnerable emboldened the warlord, but instead of fleeing he moved further into the room, leaving  his shotgun leaning against the wall as he closed the distance between the two considerably.

Timur stares up curiously as the Exo studies him, silently debating within his own mind as his crimson optics scrutinized the Iron lord, when he spoke it was with a quiet demand.

"Call your ghost and have them heal your wounds..." He was testing him, Timur knew this immediately, no warlord would ever be so foolish...but he wasn't a warlord.

Still it was risky.. If he decided to kill him, there would be no second chances, the whispers of the Ahamkera's silky voice echoes throughout the chambers of the iron lord's mind, singing of the many ends that would potentially end the warlock.

Many were lies Timur knew this, but one no doubt was true, a story among the sea if tall tales foretold his final death and he hasn't a clue which.

The iron lord summons his ghost anyway...