ONI
As the crew waited for what they considered they inevitable end and hero death, time strecthed...
...and stretched.
...and nothing happened.
The voice returned, laughed, deep, mockingly.
"Did you think, that the price of the prophecy would be paid by a hand full of individuals? That the sins committed in the past would be abolished by less blood than what flows every day on one of your puny worlds?"
The voice laughed again and then fell silent...
The tension in area seemed to rise through the roof and the beasts at the border of the arena began twitching, pacing back and forth at the borders...
Then the voice continued, emotionless, cold, merciless...
"Return to your world and tell your people, then return to us, with the tenth part of one of your major worlds populations, or a tenth of your fleet. If you wish to challenge us for the prophecy, bring your soldiers and we shall have a duel. You have three of your weeks, should the demands not be met, we will return and claim the prophecys price ourselves."
The voice stopped, the presence remained, though there was something else that changed as well, there was a slight creaking in the ships structure and then the sensors registered that the ship was moving backwards, back towards the rift...
A few minutes later the ship halted in a similarly ominous manner, outside the hellish dimension of the Cult, back in realspace... the demands had been set, the clock was running, what would the UEG do now?
