"A Dramatic Force-Blessed Myth"
Nostalgia was like a drug, fuzzing the mind and making him unsure of whether he was reliving a memory or standing in reality. With the wind whipping through his hair and battering at his cloak, Vulpesen tightened his grip on the edge of the Vixen's hydraulics as her ramp hissed open. Decades ago, this was how he had always made his regular debuts. He had been a figure in black, dropping into the blasted landscapes below to strike in a flurry of golden blade and darting steel. Recently, he had the backing of the full might of the Galactic Alliance at his tail. He marched with companies and regiments, make his way tot he front lines like a proper commander. The Alliance was now dead, a withered husk with scavengers still picking at the few remains that had been left over the years. That's what had brought him here, to Kattada, where the common people fought for their lives and freedom.
The Tenevi had kept him informed as to the goings-on of Veradune's local neighbors. Reports from this particular green ball had shed light on the disturbing rise of an oppressive monarchy. There had even been reports of a third party manipulating and giving power and aid to said regime from the shadows. In response, the Armis Militia and some of his more specialized agents had been sent in to turn the tides of this local conflict. They hadn't failed, but things had been more difficult than expected. The monarchists had dug in like ticks and the revolutionaries had been pounding away at the capital city of Haleoda for weeks with the losses to prove it.
"Garlan," the Valde growled, soliciting a stiffened back and a near salute the head of his personal company.
"Yeah, boss?" Casual to the point of near insubordination, Corranthus Garlan was one of a rare few who felt so comfortable in the presence of Veradune's ruler. That he had been a member of the Royal Guard since before its formation as Trident company might have had something to do with that.
"Tell the men to fall back from the walls. I don't need it coming down on their heads." He was tired of his men banging their heads of the metaphorical and literal barricade that was the city wall. He also knew that through all the suffering, peace was not an option. Liberty or death. He was not here for a seat at the despot's table. No. He was here to flip it.
Vulpesen turned to Garlan and with a small smirk and stepped to the edge of the ramp with his back to the field below. "You have command. Once those walls fall, let me know about any hard points that need my personal attention. I'm out for a flight." Metal wings extended from his back with a slight whir, the sharpened feathers rustling in the displaced wind. Then, with another step back, a black figure dropped from the sky...
[Just a thread to stretch Vulpesen's legs (and wings) without the stress of keeping up with a whole major faction or two. Feel free to join as an old friend/enemy, or a new one!]
The Tenevi had kept him informed as to the goings-on of Veradune's local neighbors. Reports from this particular green ball had shed light on the disturbing rise of an oppressive monarchy. There had even been reports of a third party manipulating and giving power and aid to said regime from the shadows. In response, the Armis Militia and some of his more specialized agents had been sent in to turn the tides of this local conflict. They hadn't failed, but things had been more difficult than expected. The monarchists had dug in like ticks and the revolutionaries had been pounding away at the capital city of Haleoda for weeks with the losses to prove it.
"Garlan," the Valde growled, soliciting a stiffened back and a near salute the head of his personal company.
"Yeah, boss?" Casual to the point of near insubordination, Corranthus Garlan was one of a rare few who felt so comfortable in the presence of Veradune's ruler. That he had been a member of the Royal Guard since before its formation as Trident company might have had something to do with that.
"Tell the men to fall back from the walls. I don't need it coming down on their heads." He was tired of his men banging their heads of the metaphorical and literal barricade that was the city wall. He also knew that through all the suffering, peace was not an option. Liberty or death. He was not here for a seat at the despot's table. No. He was here to flip it.
Vulpesen turned to Garlan and with a small smirk and stepped to the edge of the ramp with his back to the field below. "You have command. Once those walls fall, let me know about any hard points that need my personal attention. I'm out for a flight." Metal wings extended from his back with a slight whir, the sharpened feathers rustling in the displaced wind. Then, with another step back, a black figure dropped from the sky...
[Just a thread to stretch Vulpesen's legs (and wings) without the stress of keeping up with a whole major faction or two. Feel free to join as an old friend/enemy, or a new one!]
