Draven Dursden
The Toy Knight
Draven was...Tired. How long had he been fighting something? Working endlessly towards that goal of becoming the Galaxy's premier fighter, the heroic legend which he had envisioned in his mind? Too long. Far too long. As his mind grasped for consciousness, the first thing it registered was the freezing, harsh cold. Like an old machine powering up for the first time in ages, Draven's nervous system began to feel out the limbs, making sure they were all intact, the fingers, the toes, and finally, the eyes. He opened his eyes. Eye. His lips slowly, forced themselves into an unfamiliar smile, eye. He no longer had his other eye.
The scene before him was that of a cracked cock pit shield, the glass spiraling outwards like a spiderweb, multiple impacts in the glass causing it to come dangerously close to giving in to the vacuum of space. But not quite. The knight didn't dare to even breath, as he gently brought his hand up to the old leather buckle which kept him in his seat, pressing it and allowing himself a degree of freedom. He recognized the large, and spacious cock pit, a drop ship. One of the three he had commanded, filled with the Myrmidons.
Slowly the knight pushed himself out of the mildew covered, rotting chair, letting out a savage, hiss as he fell forward and slid across the frost covered ground. His legs were incredibly weak, atrophied almost. The knight's fingers curled in, struggling to push himself up, once, twice, three times before he finally managed it. Sitting criss-cross, Draven looked out over the wrecked cock pit, the two co-pilots laid slumped over their consoles, white bone filling his view. Draven's throat suddenly felt bone dry. He tried to call out, "H-Hello?" His words sounding more like parchment scraping over parchment, the scared hiss of a child.
Forcing his legs underneath him, and steadying himself on the metal wall of the cock pit, Draven now stood, clearing his throat, and calling out once again, "Hello!?" This time his voice took on the same vitality which he recalled it having. The next thing to check? His hip, though he really didn't need to, the familiar weight there was enough to assure the knight. His broad saber was intact. He had hand crafted the weapon, made to shatter other saber crystals, and break light sabers, the massive blade had accompanied Draven through his entire life it seemed. He intended to die with it in hand.
One step after another, lead him to one of the co-pilots, pushing the corpse which was mostly rotted back, just a few bits of flesh still clinging to its form, the jaw slack and open, eyesockets emptied out, and gaping as the once pretty woman's voiceless scream echoed for eternity, white teeth shining. Draven recoiled, years of combat had yet to numb the exquisite pain of death. Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the door, which would lead directly into the drop chamber, and pressing his palm to it, the metal hissed, and gears ground. The knight had to face the truth, and learn his men's fate.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFZP8zQ5kzk
(If the fancy strikes you to listen)
[member="Jairdain"]
