Before he had exalted, Esone had never particularly enjoyed heights. He had passed the Army Airborne School on a whim and by the skin of his nose, which firmly quashed any desire he had to attend Air Assault. Jumping out the back of a spaceship, through a debris field, into a target that from here looked to be the size of a watermelon, would<span style="font-style: italic">not</span>have been his idea of fun.<br/><br/>Now, of course - with his charms and essence to fuel them- he could hover, fly and otherwise move without regard for gravity.<br/><br/>The scraps of wind churned as he shot forward after his commander, streaking out behind him like the tail of a shooting star. He hadn't bothered with his thrusters; maintaining motion while under the effects of his gale-tread was equivalent to him running, and Esone felt like he needed a quick dose of shut-eye. Even if it was only for a minute or two, and the dreaming -the<span style="font-style: italic">nightmares</span>- came on a subconscious level. he streaked over shattered wrecks, ricocheted off of ancient hulls, drumming out a hymn to gods long dead with errant flicks of his windy trail. The final overture came as the Lieutenant passed through the veil of yellow mist that ensconced the hanger door, his final whistling descent into the mouth of the Labyrinth rising to a hideous shriek of delight at the sight of incapacitated prey.<br/><br/>The first target was whipped around as Esone passed, held now by a leg and wielded as a bludgeon. In quick succession the dozen or so floaters had been pummeled into their own personal deck-craters like whack-a-mole dummies. Esone slammed down with both his foot and the unfortunate Collector-mace upon the final floater, ensuring that the crater left from it's descent was doubled in depth from his own return to earth. The floater let out a final wheezing chitter as it's ribcage disintegrated.<br/><br/>In Esone's hand the Collector-mace looked unwell. Yellow ichor seeped from it, staining the Infernal Monster's hands and painting him with undead gore. Something rose in his blood, and with a mad, snarling smile he tore the construct in two. The spray that struck him was his war-paint, almost as intimidating as the brutal roar he uttered as the Infernal Monster charged the next group of Insectoid Collectors, making sure to step on as many of the crater-cradled floaters as he could along the way.<br/>_<br/><br/>Halfway across the galaxy, the heads of a group of grizzled mercs shot up from their meal, a primeval fear painted across their faces.<br/><br/>"Did you hear that? Did you hear... The Beast?" one whispered to another. Terrified moans rose up around him.<br/><br/>"No. And you didn't either. That monster promised to leave us alone. It<span style="font-style: italic">promised</span>."<br/><br/>When an Infernal Monster screams his fury, the armies who have faced him<span style="font-style: italic">remember</span>his wrath.