The Wolf
Preliat stood in the streets, the dead piled around him. Vong, Graug, and civilian corpses- with plenty of Mandalorian dead, lay around him. Preliat was alone, in a sea of moving bodies. [member="Aditya Amadis"] and [member="Kila Cadau"] were tending to [member="Strider Garon"]. In a way, at least. Preliat was amidst the field of battle, watching the Graug and Vong forces retreat. Preliat stood up, then swiped his hands across. There would be no retreat- no quarter given. Vong and Graug were shot down in the back, and Preliat stood as his men, and any Mandalorian near them, cut down the attempted escapees. There was no mercy from the wolf. They would know his name. They would fear his wrath. Preliat turned and flicked his hands upwards, motioning for the NCOs to continue his orders. And they did. The cries of the dead soon died out, and silence marked the city.
Preliat ran a hand through his onyx hair, and sat down on the curb of the street. It was Elrood all over again. His eyes danced over to a girl, and blinked. Black ooze leaked from her eyes and mouth. She twitched.
I know you remember me Preliat. I know you see me everyday. Look at me!
Preliat found it excruciatingly difficult to believe his eyes and ears. That girl was dead. She died a couple of years ago, on Elrood during the Dark Harvest. It was all in his mind. His mind. His shattered, fracturing mind. He stood up, turning away. He heard her. Gurgling. Choking on the substance of the Dark Harvest. Dying. And then, he heard the shotgun shot. He flinched, knowing the sound. He turned back- and saw nothing. Nothing but ash, debris, and failure.
He stood amidst the swarm of troops, conducting search and rescue operations on the civilian population. He dropped to his knees, and stared up at the sky, blinking. So many planets. So many stars. So many galaxies, so many stories. So many of them written in blood. Preliat felt alone again, alone in a sea of death. He had his doubts. Why he was fighting. Who he was fighting for. What he was fighting to accomplish. Because today, he had only fought to survive and protect his child. But there would be no benefit from it. Dredge had killed a majority of the people in the city. Fighting with the insurgents on the rest of the planets would take far longer. Preliat hadn't won. The Mandalorians hadn't won. Nobody did. Nobody won. Nobody ever wins in war.
He held his arms out at the side, and screamed.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME!"
He said, knowing who he was talking to. He stood up, walking into a ruined cafe, escaping the sight of the others. He ran to the bathroom, covered in ash. The cracked mirror, held his horrid reflection. Eyes sunken in, cheeks gaunt and his brown eyes nearly blackened- Preliat was turning into a monster. Preliat slid his armored body on the wall, sliding until he reached the floor, and shut the door. He was alone in the darkness, the taste of ashes and blood on the edge of his lips. The air was like breathing in glass- he just needed some time.
Preliat had once taken honor and glory from warfare. Now all he took was a paycheck and nightmares.
Preliat ran a hand through his onyx hair, and sat down on the curb of the street. It was Elrood all over again. His eyes danced over to a girl, and blinked. Black ooze leaked from her eyes and mouth. She twitched.
I know you remember me Preliat. I know you see me everyday. Look at me!
Preliat found it excruciatingly difficult to believe his eyes and ears. That girl was dead. She died a couple of years ago, on Elrood during the Dark Harvest. It was all in his mind. His mind. His shattered, fracturing mind. He stood up, turning away. He heard her. Gurgling. Choking on the substance of the Dark Harvest. Dying. And then, he heard the shotgun shot. He flinched, knowing the sound. He turned back- and saw nothing. Nothing but ash, debris, and failure.
He stood amidst the swarm of troops, conducting search and rescue operations on the civilian population. He dropped to his knees, and stared up at the sky, blinking. So many planets. So many stars. So many galaxies, so many stories. So many of them written in blood. Preliat felt alone again, alone in a sea of death. He had his doubts. Why he was fighting. Who he was fighting for. What he was fighting to accomplish. Because today, he had only fought to survive and protect his child. But there would be no benefit from it. Dredge had killed a majority of the people in the city. Fighting with the insurgents on the rest of the planets would take far longer. Preliat hadn't won. The Mandalorians hadn't won. Nobody did. Nobody won. Nobody ever wins in war.
He held his arms out at the side, and screamed.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME!"
He said, knowing who he was talking to. He stood up, walking into a ruined cafe, escaping the sight of the others. He ran to the bathroom, covered in ash. The cracked mirror, held his horrid reflection. Eyes sunken in, cheeks gaunt and his brown eyes nearly blackened- Preliat was turning into a monster. Preliat slid his armored body on the wall, sliding until he reached the floor, and shut the door. He was alone in the darkness, the taste of ashes and blood on the edge of his lips. The air was like breathing in glass- he just needed some time.
Preliat had once taken honor and glory from warfare. Now all he took was a paycheck and nightmares.
