Revenchent
Dungeon Master

Sector twenty seven was one of the quietest regions held within the confines of Zenith Prime. It was designed for one big reason in mind; to be out of the way. Unlike the rest of the military world, Twenty Seven was a quiet secluded forest, populated by many of the small animals imported from neighboring worlds.
It was seclusion, a place for the men and women of the Confederacy to escape to if they needed a break, and was often used by Templars to assist in deep meditation. All major structures in the region were a five minute walk from a quiet lake, and it was all relatively well sheltered. Light seeped weakly through the treeline, giving the region a comfortable feel to it.
Small look out posts were stationed throughout the forest, but droids were all that maned them. The pseudo resort was one of a few in the region and only about nine or ten organice were occupying it. Each temple-like building was outfitted with living quarters, kitchens, electricity, and garages filled with recreational vehicles. It should have been a paradise.
Calico pushed himself out of the bed, staring out through a paned window as thin strands of light illuminated his face. His beard was starting to grow back, and he looked rather tired lately. The Marshal threw on a simple brown coat over his white undershirt and strolled on out to the back lawn.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, listening to the sounds of the forest, walking about in the damp grass careful not to trample any of the many flower beds planted. Galaar was brain dead, and it would be a few weeks before anything could be done about it. The stress had thrown Calico out of whack. His work routines had gone to osik.
This little getaway was his attempt at clearing his head, and so far, it seemed to be working. He went on strolling, whistling a quiet tune to himself as he took in the peace.
@[member="Keziah Denko"]