SilverBones Posted March 20, 2013 Share Posted March 20, 2013 (edited) I am Banshee I draw. The pull of my Paris causes a soft, whining sound as the compound tensile fibers give the carbon string the torque of an industrial engine. It is a silence that seems only to comfort me when the draw is made. I feel the strain on my arm muscles as I hold the alloy, energy-tipped shaft between my fingers. I have reached the penultimate crescendo of this performance. Patience is not something the Tenno can lightly afford. Our race is hunted through the solar system like dogs; to be put down under the military foot of the Grineer or traded as rare commodities by the Corpus. It sickens me how far our people have fallen, but yet I am determined to make those responsible pay for it. My targets draw near. Three Corpus. One commander and two engineers. All of them unaware of my presence as I crouch in a vent to the side of the room, too hidden for them to notice. For the last three hours I have been waiting in the shadows; waiting for this opportunity to come. Now it is here, and it takes all my will to keep my body from shaking in excitement and anger. To think that this creature has the remains of three of my people on slabs - waiting to sell them to the highest bidder - fills me with rage. One shot followed by another, and his Engineers are sent silently into the black depths below the catwalk. By the time he has realized what has happened, I am behind him, the synthetic muscles in my arms twisting and tensing enough to grip him by his throat and hold him aloft, choking the very sounds out of him. For a brief second, he appears to beg for his life, and I relish his fear. With a scream, my Warframe blasts him with a wall of sound, rupturing his auditory relays and causing blood to leak from his eyes and nose. The force of the blast tears him from my grip and sends him spiraling over the side of the catwalk and towards the bodies of his comrades. Never again will he sell the Sacred Flesh. This defiler is dead but there are many more. But then, that is my purpose; I am the Silent Herald, the razor point of our anger. The haunting call of Mother Death. I am Banshee. Edited March 21, 2013 by SilverBones Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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