Placeholder 0128
Character
Night had fallen over this half of Ruusan. Darkness enshrouded the wilds beyond the walls of Cedric's familial home, but the Graywall itself was lit like a beacon. The 501st garrison patrolled on full alert; their rifles set at the ready. The castle was expecting a visitor today; one many would likely see dead if the opportunity to end him presented itself. Cedric was not a part of that group. It was not vileness or a sense of betrayal that led him to seeking out the Lord of Shrouds, but curiosity.
He was interested to see just what sort of man had led a section of his father's people down such a shadowy path. It was true that the Dominion had accepted followers of all denominations, so the Lord of Shrouds' decision to align with a cult of the dark side was not entirely unexpected. Still, the amount of former allied warriors who had fallen to the shadow was truly alarming. The light was being snuffed out one troubled soul at a time.
Cedric understood that part of that was his fault. He had chosen to be tolerant when his allies had preached disdain. At the time, he'd believed his acceptance of those that followed the darker path was the only way to truly save them. So few had been shown the kindness and compassion of the Ashla as of late, and he had hoped to redeem though under his command via such qualities. His father had chosen to see them only as weapons to be discarded after their use, to dangerous to be kept alive once the wars were over. Cedric had always carried his mother's heart, and that weakness had allowed his people to fall in his absence.
The Dark Side could not be trusted, and neither could its followers. They were sycophants; beings of such weak will that they had to turn to the easy path. The knight had no sympathy for his fallen brethren any longer, and part of him admitted that the strong military presence was not only for Tacitus' safety but a show of strength.
"So many sought to tear apart my father's empire. How is it that all of them have fallen?" Cedric mentally asked of the empyrean.. He was clad in the full battleplate of his former station, the eagle of dominion clear upon his breastplate. His visage was hidden by the mask of the Archlord, though his presence within the force was entirely open. He awaited the Lord of Shrouds arrival upon the largest landing pad the Graywall had to offer, a squad of Republic Commandos flanking him on either side.
He was interested to see just what sort of man had led a section of his father's people down such a shadowy path. It was true that the Dominion had accepted followers of all denominations, so the Lord of Shrouds' decision to align with a cult of the dark side was not entirely unexpected. Still, the amount of former allied warriors who had fallen to the shadow was truly alarming. The light was being snuffed out one troubled soul at a time.
Cedric understood that part of that was his fault. He had chosen to be tolerant when his allies had preached disdain. At the time, he'd believed his acceptance of those that followed the darker path was the only way to truly save them. So few had been shown the kindness and compassion of the Ashla as of late, and he had hoped to redeem though under his command via such qualities. His father had chosen to see them only as weapons to be discarded after their use, to dangerous to be kept alive once the wars were over. Cedric had always carried his mother's heart, and that weakness had allowed his people to fall in his absence.
The Dark Side could not be trusted, and neither could its followers. They were sycophants; beings of such weak will that they had to turn to the easy path. The knight had no sympathy for his fallen brethren any longer, and part of him admitted that the strong military presence was not only for Tacitus' safety but a show of strength.
"So many sought to tear apart my father's empire. How is it that all of them have fallen?" Cedric mentally asked of the empyrean.. He was clad in the full battleplate of his former station, the eagle of dominion clear upon his breastplate. His visage was hidden by the mask of the Archlord, though his presence within the force was entirely open. He awaited the Lord of Shrouds arrival upon the largest landing pad the Graywall had to offer, a squad of Republic Commandos flanking him on either side.