Outside a small compound, four unlikely companions stand ready to venture into the dense, shadow-filled woods, prepared to face off with whatever is stalking the small village.
The night is thick with darkness. Clouds had rolled in, attempting to blot out the sparse moonlight. The scant torchlight of the settlement is suddenly unable to penetrate the night. Chuck "Tollbooth" Goren and Bob "Big Boa" Walker stared into the unknown.
For WilyKit, his heightened vision transforms the nighttime landscape into shades of gray and white. The few silvery beams illuminate the area, allowing him to see each blade of grass shimmering in the wind and the gnarled branches of trees resembling ghostly fingers reaching into the night.
Peering into the distance, WilyKat strained the limit of his eyes. "They're down the road," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he nodded down the darkened path that led away from the settlement.
"I can barely see a thing," Tollbooth replied, squinting and shifting uneasily.
"They're just standing there," Big Boa remarked, his deep and resonant voice echoing faintly through the helmet's speaker. WilyKat looked at him, eyebrow raised in question.
"Night Vision in the visor," Big Boa added.
"Umm, not for nothing, but I can see them too," Wildcat interjected suddenly, surprise in his voice as he narrowed his eyes.
"Can you normally see well at night?" WilyKat asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Not really. At least not like this," Wildcat admitted. He turned to face WilyKat, his eyes shining unnaturally bright in the dim light.
"Interesting," WilyKat mused, taking a moment to digest this new information before refocusing on the problem. He turns to look down the road. Suddenly, his sharp eyes catch a flicker of movement in the underbrush. Before he can react, a rush of movement crashes into him, sending him flying through the air.
"What the hell was that?" Big Boa shouted. The words barely leave his mouth when a powerful unseen force throws him to the ground, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs.
A gust of almost tangible wind ruffled Toll Booth's beard, catching him off guard, "Where the hell is it?"
As Wildcat and Toll Booth stand back to back, adrenaline coursing through their bodies, they scan the darkness. Their hearts pound against their chests like bass drums. A distant shout grabs Toll Booth's attention. He strains to hear the familiar creaking of the gates.
"KEEP THEM CLOSED!" He shouted urgently into the night.
Big Boa groans as he rolls to his hands and knees, "Mother..."
The word never leaves his mouth as something smashes into his head, knocking him back to the ground. He tastes something metallic on his lip.
Wildcat looks down the road, the three silhouettes now gone. "Son of a bitch. We were set up."
"By who?" Tollbooth asks before screaming in pain.
Wildcat spins to see crimson well up from four vicious slices in Tollbooth's chest.
Through gritted teeth, Tollboth offers, "I'm okay."
Twenty feet away, WilyKat struggles to regain his footing. If they could see his face, they would see unbridled anger etched into every feature. His brow knitted tightly together, pulling downward, as he bared his sharp, fierce teeth in a menacing snarl. A deep guttural growl rumbled in his throat.
His hand searches for the Sword of Omens in the dry grass. As his fingers wrap tightly around the cool steel handle, a rush of magic surges through him. The Eye of Thundera, set into the sword guard, flickers to life, casting a muted crimson glow that bathes the area in an eerie light. A sudden warning flashes through WilyKat's mind. Guided by the ancient power of the Sword, he extends the Sword outward, keeping the blade parallel to the ground, hovering just inches above the surface.
A second later, a streak of motion flashes by. It bellows a fierce primal scream before crashing into the ground, sending puffs of dust and dirt flying. The creature lay crumpled, motionless, in a heap.
WilyKat cautiously rises to his feet, his muscles tensing and his eyes narrowing as he scans the dark underbrush and towering trees for further threats. He keeps the figure lying on the ground firmly in his line of sight, refusing to let his guard down. The weight of the Sword offers calming reassurance.
"Check on Boa," WilyKat commands, "I'll deal with this." Anger hisses in his voice.
Each cautious step WilyKat takes is met with angry snarling and growling. Before him lies a creature cloaked in striking orange fur covered in black spots that ripple across its muscular form. Its clawed hands grasp at its feet in an attempt to staunch the bleeding caused by its collision with the Sword. Fiery strands of wild red hair cascade around its face, creating a chaotic mask that obscures most of its features. Amidst the tangle, two piercing, deep forest green eyes peer through the unruly locks. The unmistakable message of simmering rage fills the space between WilyKat and the injured newcomer.
Behind him, Wildcat and Tollbooth quickly move to attend to Big Boa, helping him to his feet. He is unsteady, but only for a moment. He takes an enraged step toward the fallen foe when Wildcat grabs his arm, pointing toward the thick shadows at the edge of the woodline.
"Bring it on," Boa snarls as he flexes his massive fists. Wildcat mirrors Boa's stance, bringing his fists up, his muscles rippling like coiled springs. Meanwhile, Tollbooth tightens his grip on his trusty sledgehammer, the weight reaffirming. Their eyes are locked on the intruders.
WilyKat stops feet away from the wounded assailant. The blade of the Sword glints under its power, and he points it toward the figure. They recoil with a sharp hiss, spittle flying through the air. WilyKat presses on, "Who are you?"
He keeps the Sword leveled at the intruder, "You will answer," he demands.
Suddenly, the Eye of Thundera bursts to life, its ghostly beacon cast on the deep azure of the cold sky, seemingly of its own accord. As if summoned from the depths of time, the ancient magic pulses with primordial power. It awakens a long-dormant instinctual force within their souls.
Instantly, the screams of the missing strangers pierce the night, followed by the cries of WilyKat, Wildcat, and the wounded intruder. The six figures stand immobile, frozen in place. Time pauses as each is caught in a haze of reverberating energy.
Six pairs of eyes, wide with awe and torment, turn to one another, ablaze with a pure white light. Their pupils are swallowed by an otherworldly power as they become vessels for ancient energies.
Amidst the swirling magic, a thick fog of apprehension and awe envelops them. The crackling energy dances around, binding them in an experience that feels infinite and ephemeral. It distorts the space between reality and the mystical as the most profound powers of the Sword awaken around them.
For what feels like both an eternity and a fleeting heartbeat, their innermost memories, fears, dreams, and hopes collide in a chaotic storm. Each of them is swept into a whirlwind of consciousness as they perceive the essence of one another. They are mere spectators as their lives unravel before them.
Identities that were once shielded are laid bare, raw, and exposed under the harsh truth of the Sword. Visions of love lost filter through the swirling currents of nostalgia, painting vivid images of heartache and yearning. Their enemies materialize out of the shadows of recollection, vowing vengeance against their foes.
At that moment, every emotion is amplified, the weight of shared histories and individual struggles attempting to weave a delicate and intricate bond meant to transcend their myriad differences. They find themselves forced into a deeper understanding of each other.
Within this shared experience, the ancient legacy of the Thundercats pulses through them — a vibrant current of magic that flows from the heart of Thundera. In a breathtaking instant, they are thrust into the depths of Thundera's history, witnessing the birth of the first Thundercat and the sacred forging of the legendary Sword of Omens. The creation of the Eye of Thundera unfolds before them.
Haunting images suddenly flooded their minds, depicting the gut-wrenching destruction of Thundera. They bear the burden of tending to the needs of the Thundercats after they escape to Earth, compounded by the subsequent loss of the Thundercats to foreign viruses that ravaged their ranks. They play reluctant spectators to the event that torments WilyKat's every waking moment, the merciless murder of the Lord of the Thundercats at the hands of the vile Mumm-Ra. A moment that thrust WilyKat into the role of being the next in line. They are forced to understand and acknowledge the responsibility and obligation the Sword is thrusting upon them. They see the many outcomes that may come to pass should Mumm-Ra come to Earth and destroy them.
The visions, haunting and vivid, abruptly ceased. Their limp bodies thudded heavily to the ground.
Tollbooth and Big Boa race to the sides of WilyKat and Wildcat.
"What the hell was that?" Boa asks, his voice strained as he removes his helmet, swallowing back a surge of uncertainty and fear that threatens to overwhelm him. His eyes fell on the crumpled form of Wildcat, who lay motionless on the cool ground.
"I don't know," Tollbooth replied, his heart pounding as he dropped to his knees beside WilyKat. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw the steady rise and fall of WilyKat's chest.
"What should we do, boss?" Boa's voice was barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Tollbooth admits, his mind racing with possibilities. Suddenly, a faint noise, a distant echo riding the breeze, sent a chill down his spine.
He glanced up at Boa, whose face mirrored the same look of alarm crawling across his own. The noise seemed to be growing closer, a gnawing reminder that the evening's chaos had undoubtedly seized the attention of the undead, eager for their macabre feast. As he looked around, the sight of the corpses of the slain ghouls scattered across the ground reminded him of the terror they had barely escaped.
Finally, Tollbooth steels his nerves and responds, "We can't leave them here." His voice is full of determination despite the coming unknown.
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