"Good afternoon, warriors of Chogoris! Sorry, we haven't had lunch."
With that, Evan pulled out a massive leg of meat, its surface roasted golden and crisp, its fat crackling. Beneath the golden crust, translucent fat gleamed, hot grease seeping out to mingle with the seasonings. Waves of heat awakened the distinctive aromas sleeping deep within the spices, sweeping across the grassland like wildfire.
The warriors stepping down from the Thunderhawk gripped their bolters tightly. Their hands seemed to hang casually at their waists, but they could seize their sword hilts and draw against an enemy in half a second.
The Storm Seer-a Librarian without a helmet-was not overcome by the aroma of roast meat. He remained perfectly calm as he surveyed his surroundings.
A group of warriors sat around a fire. The amount of adamantium armor was astonishing, and the Terminators wore Kheshig colors. None of the seated men held weapons, and all had removed their helmets.
The man speaking from the center was a towering warrior clad in heavy power armor of a kind he had never seen. An unsheathed sacred sword lay carelessly on the grass beside him.
Was that... Snow Eagle? Just lying on the ground? And there was a Demon Leopard carcass beside it. Had he used Snow Eagle as a dissecting knife?!
Glancing upward, he saw five grav-bikes hovering overhead. Their riders carried powered coiling dragon staffs and power lances, all melee weapons. Retrieving their mounted bolters would take 0.8 seconds.
There was a thick... fishing rod among them? He was not sure.
The Storm Seer quietly ordered the Thunderhawk airborne, its weapons locking onto every enemy's head, ready to provide aerial support at any moment.
The downdraft from the ascending Thunderhawk dispersed some of the roast meat's aroma. A sacred scent of machine oil