Kenth Berik
Disgraced Mercenary
Objective: Reflect and Prepare
Death.
Corruption.
Those words haunted the man. Kenth was crawling in a an air vent, his nostrils filled with the smell of rotten flesh. A small torch on his uniform dimly lit up the way ahead, he couldn't see much but he knew the vent was getting smaller. Suddenly the man became stuck as if the walls around him suddenly moved in to trap him. No matter how hard he wriggled he couldn't get free. That's when he heard it, the inhuman chanting in ur-Kittat. Kenth couldn't speak the language but he understood every word. He lost control of his breathing and began hyperventilating, struggling to no avail. The smell got stronger and stronger until he could see it. The hulking priest's spindly arms dragging itself through the crawlspace, its body twisted and contorted to fit through the tight gap. It stopped and stared at him for a second before letting out a deathly screech and barreled towards him. He screamed louder than he had ever screamed before but no one could hear him.
Kenth shot up from his bed, screaming. His breathing was out of control, slowly he realized he was back in his quarters, the lights brightening automatically. He buried his face in his hands and spoke quietly. "Why do you still torment me..." What had he done to deserve this torture. Was this the galaxy punishing him for siding with the Maw? No he had sided with Sularen, not those fanatics and marauders. Then again, they were the same people that destroyed Csilla, who colluded with each other to pillage and lay waste to the core. Was this what he had envisioned when he joined the Final Dawn?
Kenth stood up and walked to the mirror in his room and looked at the scar that runs up from his stomach to chest and continues from his brow and through his hair. It was black, unnaturally so. The ship medics couldn't explain why the wound still hadn't fully healed and he suspected it never would. He was offered help from some other Final Dawn officers who had contacts within the wider Maw but like hell was he going to surrender his body to him, lest he become like Aldo Garrick, nothing more than a meat puppet of the dark side. He had once respected the fleet admiral. Now he was disgusted by his mere presence. How much longer until he ended up like him.
He turned to his uniform which was hung neatly before him out on a rack and pulled out a comm link. He had been assured that even without Solipsis the Final Dawn's place in the Maw remained but Kenth was wavering. He was worried they were losing control and that they would bring him and his men down with them. He could barely hold on as it is with the night terrors but the thought that the rest of his men would endure the same pain, if not more? He couldn't bring himself to subject them to that, especially those who had been loyal to him all this time. The rumours of what happened to Sularen over Seswenna didn't help alleviate his fears either.
He activated the comm link which had a direct connection to his executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Argyle. "Argyle. I need you to prep contingency Grek-Trill-Forn-Osk." soon after he spoke an alert but slightly confused voice responded. "Sir? Are you sure? If we were caught we wouldn't have any way to explain ourselves." Kenth took a second before replying.
"I'm sure. I'm starting to feel we have strayed far from what we set out to do. It also doesn't hurt to have a back-up plan, does it?"
"Off course sir. I'll get on it right away."
Kenth set aside his comm link and grabbed a glass bottle of Soulean Brandy, he didn't bother pouring it into a glass and took a gulp straight from the bottle. Had this what it had come to? Contingencies and back-up plans?