Reaching out
Osmund Saddler is still in the Nexus, albeit a very dark and secluded corner of it. He's searching, although, by all appearances, he's standing perfectly still, staff clutched in both fists, cowl drawn forward to shadow his face.
It's taking all of his concentration to send the plaga's sonic frequency as far as he can, hoping he'll get some indication of another infected in the Nexus, or those places nearest the Nexus portals.
He can feel one with certainty, so far. One he's not particularly interested in, or worried about at the moment -- that deplorable weapons dealer.
The other is just a shadow. A hint of something, like a nearly imperceptible noise, that he's not quite certain he's heard.
He focuses more completely, sending out wave after wave of the frequency -- enough to send a lesser plaga into a frenzy. That's all he can do for the moment, until he figures out exactly which world Ramon Salazar is hiding in. He's satisfied that it should serve as a pleasant reminder for his wayward son.
It's taking all of his concentration to send the plaga's sonic frequency as far as he can, hoping he'll get some indication of another infected in the Nexus, or those places nearest the Nexus portals.
He can feel one with certainty, so far. One he's not particularly interested in, or worried about at the moment -- that deplorable weapons dealer.
The other is just a shadow. A hint of something, like a nearly imperceptible noise, that he's not quite certain he's heard.
He focuses more completely, sending out wave after wave of the frequency -- enough to send a lesser plaga into a frenzy. That's all he can do for the moment, until he figures out exactly which world Ramon Salazar is hiding in. He's satisfied that it should serve as a pleasant reminder for his wayward son.