“Well,” Nihlus began.


“You left a gap in your platinum line.” They watched the enemy Rachni Brood Tank spew sludge all over it. “That was filled fast. No pun intended.”

And then, a stream of Turian Archangels lept up the cliff to join in the attack. “They sure jumped on that one. No pun intended.”

They watched the carnage unfold for a few more seconds.

“Yeah… I’m not sure you should’ve gone right into Varren.”

“They possess the highest damage output of any ground unit.”

“To other ground units, sure. Not when the other guys were massing fifty Defilers!”

“Perhaps more intelligence would have helped,” Saren snapped back. “I recall your Satellite sitting idle for ten entire minutes–“

“Hey, look, I had an army of Celestial Shamans to control, unlike someone with their useless mob of Varren–“

Their Field Outpost exploded into many flaming bits of scrap metal.

“Yes. Well.” Saren sighed and searched for the restart. “Learned from this experience.”

“Great,” Nihlus said with accompanying eye roll. “Let’s see what else we can get! Even crazier!” After a glance at Saren’s faction selection: “Oh Spirits no. You’re not massing Defilers.”

“Just keep your Satellite moving this time.”

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