Tale of a Muld Resonant

now Baron of a smaller population

Now almost in uproar, the crowd’s cacophony of complaints, discussions, declarations and curses spewed towards the bulbous Barron whom sat atop a mighty throne, the noise almost deafening. The Baron’s militia attempting to contain the hoard as it shuffled and ebbed back and forth only increased the volume of discordant voices as their throats strained in an attempt for their commands of “back!”, “move back!” struggled to be heard.
The Barron rose to his feet and bellowed a deep reverberating note, the steel plated floor began to resonate with his song, vibrating and undulating to its subtle variance. Like gazing upon an aurora borealis from beneath the waves of the ocean, tiny shafts of prismatic light swiftly rained down upon the steel plates, visible only for barely a foot off the ground.
The stench of fear permeated the chamber as the crowd before the Barron jostled and quivered, feeling the bassy notes of his voice reverberate in their chests. The murmurs of uncertainty and fear turned into quiet words of confusion, panicked breaths, and whimpering.
In the dim light, the Barron’s figure seemed to swell with power, his eyes ablaze with an otherworldly intensity. His presence commanded the attention of all who beheld him, instilling a primal horror that gripped their hearts like icy tendrils.
As the steel plates continued to vibrate beneath their feet, the Resonant raised his arms, one towards the crowd and the other towards his rear, his voice resonating with newfound strength. With each syllable uttered, the air crackled with energy, as if the very fabric of reality itself was being warped and twisted by his will.
The crowd, now transfixed by the Barron’s display of power, fell silent, their breaths held in anticipation of what was to come. They had heard tales of a Resonants' abilities, but to witness it firsthand was a sight that sent shivers down their spines.
Two previously unseen tendrils of this same dark-cored energy with its accretion disk-like bending of light at its fringes stretched out towards the crowd, one above and one below. Suddenly, the Barron whipped his back arm overhead and struck his open palms together with a booming crack. The plates under the crowd’s feet rocketed upwards into the air as the hidden plate above fired downwards from the ceiling at matching ferocious speed.
The room fell silent but for the Barron's inhuman song and the sound of gore being slowly separated from thick steel. As the plates returned to their places, the Barron's voice broke, releasing a guttural growl like a long sigh of relief as he slumped back down upon his throne. A spectral trail hung in the air, an afterimage of the plates colliding, it slowly faded to leave only whispers of its life-ending presence.