Observation -- (Open)

The chattering started. The constant, low volume - high pitched clicks that most of the human people were oblivious to. They were speaking to him from underneath the Earth. Voices, cries, screams, pleas for relief. In one swift motion, Azmot stood, his entire body tensing as he initiated the infestation. He would release a series of low volume - high pitched clicks that could usually only come from a mandible like apparatus, finally responding to the voices that cried out. Their response could now be heard as it increased in volume, the different sounds all infusing into one, shrill scream in harmony of a low-pitched buzzing. The humans looked around in confusion, the sound easily being heard throughout the City. From sidewalk drains, water-facets, drainage grates and more they came, the swarm of Amaran Peons coming to infest the city. They were extremely weak by his standards - an Elite was a Peon over fifty fold. The Peons would actually avoid power if they could, teaming up to destroy small-scale buildings and flying by to slaughter the humans they thought they could take on. A couple were powerful enough to fight back, but so far, none were classed at Azmot's tier. They too fell to the lowly Peons.

The shape of the pawns differed in certain ways, such as colour, height, and thickness, but overall they were the same. Beetle-like hominids with thick, papery wings and thick mandibles, their height not exceeding 4 feet. The city was nowhere near rubble nor would it be without some intervention or a thousand years - it was merely in disorder. To his right, Azmot heard a screaming sound as a man of middle age ran in the Weaver's direction, not noticing he was on collision course with the boy as a pack of Amaran's chased him. Out of his back, the Kevlin Stitch: Weaver activated on his instinct, Azmot intrigued by the widening of the man's eyes before he impaled his stomach with his rightmost appendage. The Peons saw Azmot and scurried away, not exactly led but moreso herded to the destination at hand. Little had intelligence and those that did were usually smart enough to act like they didn't.

Lifting the still breathing man with one appendage, Azmot decided to learn more about the human race. Holding him out far infront of him to avoid splatter, Azmot used another spiderlike appendage to cleanly slice through his chest downwards to his belly button, using two more to hold the folds of skin open while the Weaver inspected his insides. Beneath the ribcage were... lungs, just like an Amaran. A heart, too. Though the organs differed in shape, they looked relatively the same. Could Amarans and Humans have come from a shared ancestor? The human ideal of 'Evolution' became more interesting to Azmot. Noticing the man was now in shock and dead from bleeding out as the Weaver pondered these thoughts, Azmot sighed. A wasted opportunity. Still, a cadaver or two couldn't hurt.

Azmot exited every crevice he had created to hold the man and simply held him by his sides, all eight of the Weaver Appendages holding him tight. Then, the KS: Weaving activated, the youth spewing webbing from the tips of his appendages. Tossing the man expertly, Azmot instinctively wrapped him up in thick webbing in a matter of seconds. It was surprisingly safe, really - a tiger couldn't tear through it and the mummification process would prevent the breakage of bones. The specimen would remain safe until Azmot could embalm him, or at least, let Kevlin do it for him. A stray Amaran flew by and Azmot threw the mummified-body at it, using a series of clicks to communicate that he was to bring that back to the Hive Sector.

Turning to the city, Azmot cleaned his ghastly, and now bloody, appendages against the sidewalk, ready to begin the symphony of destruction.

Pathetic. The humans crumbled under the weight of the mighty Amaran Hive. Azmot moved through the city and wreckage, scurrying quickly via movement from his appendages. In his horizon, Azmot saw the sheen of white hair moving rather quickly towards him. Was he floating..? Azmot was still in the direct course of the moving... thing. He awaited it to meet with him.

Oh, alright. As the now discernible boy came into sight, Azmot understood. It was another Peon of the Amaran Hive with some sort of physical augmentation. The give-away was the Amaran's right arm, a clear and evident display of Amaran DNA. Yelling, the Amaran Elite ordered the Peon around lightly.

Grunt, halt. Why are you going against the Hive Mind? Azmot asked the boy. He wasn't wrecking stuff or anything - not following orders was blasphemy. If the pawn got out of Place the Weaver was ready to put him rightback in it.

Mutt.

Azmot raised his appendages and pointed them toward the now back-facing Amaran, his feet gracefully touching the filthy ground once again. 8 shots of webbing would follow, the thickish strings moving rather quickly. Soon, they would wrap around the boys chest, shoulders, hip, and neck respectively, and Azmot would retract the strings to pull Onyx towards him, ready to correct the Peon of his error.

The puny peon managed to avoid the attack... luck, perhaps. Maybe Azmot was overconfident, Regardless, it seemed as if the mutt wanted to play. Quickly, Azmot severed the strings as Onyx charged forward, casually calling out to him.

By order of the Amaranth Hive; stand down. Azmot said, hearing an approaching car from behind. With ease, he pivoted into it and impaled the hood with all eight of his appendages, sliding back to face Onyx. With a heave, Azmot pushed forward and threw the now identified taxi at Onyx, more of a warning than an actual attack. If the youth continued to move like he just had, the Weaver would be in for a good fight.

In reaction to the first car being utterly cut in half, Azmot grabbed four more cars, two for each extra appendage. His hands stayed free as he threw the cards one at a time towards Onyx, the cars consecutive and aimed where Onyx would move. Would the mutt actually do something or continue dodging?

The car raced back towards Azmot, the Weaver tired of this game. With one fluid motion, the appendages raised and shot webbing all over the car, catching it delicately as he tossed it quickly in the air and spun it like a basketball, the vehicle wrapped in a matter of moments. Then, Azmot ran towards Onyx with the car above his head, the adhesive substance all over the once yellow and now white Taxi. Once he came close enough, Azmot would throw the taxi cab at close range, the adhesion making it more difficult to slash through along with the properties the webbing carried.
Onyx would be no match for an Elite.

Pitiful. Was the man stuck on the other side? Azmot slammed all 8 appendages on the top, the car crushing under the immense weight. As it hit the ground, the crater formed into the concrete cracked. Quickly the appendages raised and started to tear through the metal easily, ripping it apart to find Onyx and impale him once he was found. Soon the car would be in shreds and the boy would be in shambles.

Azmot felt the atmospheric shift as the boy teleported, as well as seeing him in the peripheral vision. Not having enough time to actually block, Azmot used the still touching appendages and pulled himself forward, the attack missing his sides. Apparently, Onyx had the ability to teleport. He turned towards the boy, now uplifted by his appendages, and sent four towards his chest, which was relatively close. The other four were supporting his weight.

A silly move overall.

As soon as Onyx started rolling, Azmot used the appendages now behind Onyx to hit him mid-roll, hopefully. He tensed his back appendages, preparing a leap maneuver. If the attack hit or not, Azmot would bend them and then jump up with the power of his strength four fold, aiming at one of the buildings nearby. He would dig into the building, crumbling it's surface as he pierced into it, getting a firm hold. He aimed his four free appendages towards Onyx with variation, pointed moreso at the area around him. Then, he started to weave, spreading webbing in intricate strokes around the area, leaping from building to building in order to form a very tight set of webstrands that surrounded Onyx, and most of the portion of the street they were on. He moved at speeds probably unrecognizeable to a human, more of a blur, as he moved at his maximum capacity. The Mutt Amaran, however, seemed to be more capable than Azmot had anticipated.

(The Structure Formed)