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 Posted: Sat Aug 26, 2006 2:57 pm
If I explained it, it would make sense. Suffice it to say, it let's me put this stuff somewhere.
Jason Xeles: A recent addition to Lambda Solanautics test pilots, Jason was a friend of the now deceased Dr. Whitmyer. It is actually due to this friendship that he's even in the piloting corp, as his scores on both the psyche and stress reaction tests would've normally disqualified from all but shuttle testing. It was at Dr. Whitmyer's demand that he was placed within meager "Combat Chasis" flight crew.
Stoic at times, Jason can be nonetheless very friendly and engaging when feeling comfortable in his surroundings. Unfortunately, due to his placement as a CC test pilot, he has been placed at odds with many others; both the military pilots who demand perfection from their field models, and the lower class test pilots who had sought the position he now fills. This has left him with few friends beyond his testmates and Dr. Whitmyer's nephew/assistant Reyes.
Prior to the doctor's demise, he was designated the H-Class unit's sole test pilot, for reasons that have never been specified.
Jenny Fe: The oldest of Lambda's CC testers, Jenny shows little in the way fear and has more chasis experience than pilot in the Terras fleet. Strong willed and vocal, she has openly questioned why the Fleet is so intently requesting more powerful CC units when there is no ongoing conflicts. This has put her at odds with fleet troopers and Lambda officials alike, but she has yet to back down.
She's taken something of a shine to Jason, taking him under her wing of sorts. While she pushes him harder than even the strictest of surveyors, she is certain his abilities can handle it, and neither of them have completely destroyed a unit from these instances yet.
She has been designated as the sole S-Class tester of the three, due both to her ample experience with and appreciation for such units.
Leslie Burn: The youngest of the testing trio, Leslie is easily the most energetic. Constantly optimistic, but not to the point of naivete, she is often quick with a joke or something to lighten the mood. A notable prodigy, she has a grand intelligence and an eerie aptitude for chasis command, rarely requiring more than 20 minutes sitting in the control deck to determine all its functions and capabilities. This has allowed her to actually reveal some flaws within test units before so much as initiating start up, saving Lamda considerable time and energy.
However, she has an odd phobia of S-class units, to the point of going catatonic the only time she was ever placed inside one. While she's more than capable of combating them, controlling them is currently beyond her.
She has taken to acting as a good counter to Jason's soticism and Jenny's conviction, becoming both the civil and considerate voice of the three.
She looked up to Dr. Whitmyer a great deal, and her death came as something of a surprise. While she seems alright, only time will tell.
The R-class's designated pilot, she has taken to this unit type like a duck to water.
Dr. Whitmyer: Dr. Sandra Whitmyer was wildly recognized as the mother of modern space travel. Designing the polydimensional drive (the Foundation Class Intra-dimensional Drive, or "F-Class drive") while still in highschool, she went on to redefine physics as we know it, disproving Newton and radically altering Einstein's theories as well as quantum physics as a whole. However, her passion lay in design, and as such, her theories took a back seat to her creations.
A friendly, down to earth person, she started Lamdba Solanautics shortly after her theories went public, with the intent of mass producing F-Class vehicles. Within months, F-Class craft were the most common means of space travel in the solar system.
She produced a great many advancements in her short life, from the S and R class engines, to machines which have allowed for the colonization of Mercury and Venus.
Her death on the Saturn moon of Titan, shortly after the final production design of the H Class drive system, rocked the scientific community, and she was mourned openly by many in the Terras Federation.
However, certain circumstances surrounding her death have called into question its "accidental" nature, as well as how things will play out for the Lambda corporation and its employees.
Reyes Salvadore: Assistant to one of the greatest minds in human history, Reyes has been placed in charge of the design corp within Lambda, following his aunt's death.
Astute and talkative, he's a genius in his own right, having helped advance the S and R classes to where they are today. Somewhat adventurous, he's been known to test out F-Class concepts with the trio while they're testing out their standard models.
His friendship with the three has recently put him at odds with members of the board of directors and members of the Terras Fleet. For reasons he is not clear on, there is some distaste for the testers, as well as the entire design branch.
This is of little concern to him at the moment though, as he has come across some rather bizarre notes within his aunt's design concepts, as well as her journal and will. He fully intends to reveal it to both his friends and the branch as soon as he has a better grasp on what they mean.
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Posted: Sun Aug 27, 2006 10:31 pm
Mass Production Drives
F-Class Drive: Foundation Class Intra-dimensional Drive, this was the first advanced engine system designed by Sandra Whitmyer, employing the understanding of polydimensional phsyics. By far the fastest of all the production models, it allows crafts to travel at several thousand miles per hour while maintaining a conventional gravity well. If the well is disengaged, it is capable of sublight speeds while fundamentally negating inertia, though if a subject isn't in some fashion restrained, they will still impact violently within the craft. However, beyond propulsion, has little in the way of advanced energy output.
S-Class Drive: Stability Class Intra-dimensional Drive, this drive system is used within the rather massive chassis systems of the same name. With heights upwards of 100 feet, these units require considerable energy output to function. Mammoth in its own right, the S-Class drive is more than capable of handling most such demands, allowing for many S-units to transform into some sort of ship form, as well as providing energy for the rather astounding inherent weapons systems. It also provides considerable speed when necessary, allowing for interstellar travel at around 600 mph, though it lacks any sublight capability. The high production costs on such a drive has resulted in S-Class units being largely used for military purposes, and even then, they are less than common.
R-Class Drive: Reactive Class Intra-dimensional Drive, this drive system is used within the far smaller R-Class units. With heights never exceeding 50 feet, and some as small as 10 feet high, the R-Class is the most common of the personnel drive systems. While not as noticably fast as the F or S classes, its provides considerably increased maneuverability, due to its greatly reduced size. As well, it is exceptional efficient, allowing the R Class to frequently recharge any of the variety of external systems and modifications associated with the units. The most easily produced of the chassis drives, it has seen considerable appreciation within both military and civilian industries.
Experimental Drives
TS/TR-Class Drives: Designated as "Test S" and "Test R" Class Drives, these exist solely within the S and R Class units employed by pilot Jennifer Fe and pilot Leslie Burn, respectively. While little is commonly known about these particular drives, they were discovered within Dr. Whitmyer's personal effects, as bequeathed to one Reyes Salvadore. Seemingly, they are no different than they're more common cousins, save for greatly increased energy production, to the point of damaging their units when pushed to extremes. At this point in time measures are being taken to remove such a flaw, and officials for Lambda Solanautics hope to have the drives finished of testing within the solar year.
H-Class Drive: Only one of these drive systems exists anywhere, and little is known beyond that. Powering the H-Class unit piloted by one Jason Xeles, it seems to be an odd union of the benefits provided by both the S and R class engines. It seems to provide considerable output, as evidenced by test footage, while at the same time giving enhanced maneuverability to the 80 foot tall chassis. This has given it the nickname "Hybrid-Class," or amongst its detractors "Halfbreed-Class." As the design corp refuses to release any information upon this system, all one can do is theorize about its use and purpose. When approached about its benefits, Jason has refused to comment save for stating "It's... yuh know, good enough." This lack of information has caused many to question if the highly experimental drive is worth the considerable production costs.
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Posted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 5:07 pm
The Rock Star: tall, kinda skinny, with a sharp tongue and a smile that could end a revolution, or begin one, the rock star is passion personified. A pair of faded, beat-up denims wrapped about his legs, and a black 'Star Wars' t-shirt upon his torso, his weapon of war is a fiery crimson electric guitar. Nails a good bit longer than they should be, he tears riff after riff from the air, binding them into the strings and giving life itself new, sonic meaning. His inner flame cannot be temper, nor can it be tamed. It can merely be focussed and witnessed, and he loves it that way. He cares little about his appearance, because the god of sound allows him to touch people in a way visuals never will. His is the power of action, the rhythm of the heart itself, and it's a power he'll use to push the world to new heights. The Swordsman: Long, platinum hair, bound by a knot at the top, flows down beyond the neckline of his loose red shirt. A pair of thin, black sunglasses hang loosely from his breast pocket, and his brilliant black dress shoes sit beneath red satin dress pants, glistening like liquid shadow. His left hand rests lightly up his sword, bound within its scabbard. He is tempered rage, a force of nature with a single, violent tooth. Honourable to a fault, he always seeks to uphold good in its many forms, but he will not accept those who abuse such a freedom. While many a time that blade has been whet upon bone, not once has it freed a soul from this mortal coil, and he fully intends to keep it that way. Should that time come that he is pushed beyond his self-imposed limits, beyond his restrictive discipline, then his fury while free itself from his shell. Only then, with his wrath unfettered, will his instrument taste the soul of evil, and usher it free, because good is not a tool meant to bind his rage, good is a freedom who knows well, and one the ferocity will abide by. Sol Rael de Nexius: An adept and focussed sorceror, Sol committed a great number of attrocities prior to his discovery of the Nexus of Realities. While he prefers not to speak of such things, many of his associates have stated he is drawing penance from himself for acts they question if he even did. An ancient and monstrous lich, Sol came to the Nexus following one of its dividers, the villainous Marcentile. While Sol recognized and despised the evil that he was, and the evil he could become, Marcentile reveled in such things, perpetrating all number of terrible things upon his subjects. In a bloody, violent coup, Sol showed Marcentile the flaw in his ideologies, employing a horde of the dead to break his defenses, and drawing the final battle into single combat. While Marcentile was handsome, charismatic, and strong, Sol was wicked, a horrifying cadaver made more so by millenia spent binding negative energy into his wretched frame. In place of his original flesh and bone hands, a pair of powerful artifacts sat: the hands of Fate and Suffering. With these, he was able to best the more able Marcentile, sending him sprawling into the places between dimensions, and reaping his thrown. Shortly there after, he went to investigate the other half and there he met Hardt, who inadvertently revealed to him that he still had a heart, something he'd long thought killed. Sol is easily the eldest of the 3 players upon this stage, having descended to lich as a means to survive a terrible ice age that beset his continent. A necromancer by necessity initially, he has found a peace in the truly dead he's never found in life. The agonizing cacophony that is emotions served often to stifle his thought, and desire to advance, so he surpressed it as best he could, all passions eventually combining in a brilliant rage that still very much plagues him. Towering above most, Sol is quite guant, both due to his pre-divinity undead nature, and his natural thinness. The hands of Fate and Suffering are still bound to him; his left hand a bright mass of seemingly molten gold, with gemstones at each knuckle, his right is a twisted feast of barbed wire, bent steel and metal shards, each finger over a foot in length, with at least two extra joints. Realizing that an artifacts absence can well do more harm than good, he replaced them with the Hands of Chance and Pain. His common attire is the storm cloak and his hollow mask. The storm cloak is named due to the lightning seemingly arching within it, and the mask is merely a ceramic helmet that makes his head completely featureless. Sol seeks to advance himself, even now, from the evils he long ago committed. While he can no longer clearly remember what they were, he knows they exist, and the lack of memory makes them all the worse, as it means he may well be neglectful and commit them again. The few times he's allowed instinct, rather than reason, to control his actions, he's brought suffering to this around him, causing him to further seek means to exile his emotions. In the end, Sol is a pennitent deity, seeking a means to redress his wrongs. And until he finds one, he'll control to judge himself lacking, punishing himself for wrongs done, forgotten, and still yet to commit. Hardt: Sol Rael of the Nexus's "better half," in all senses of that phrase, she is the beauty to his horror, the compassion to his wrath, the emotional context to his rigid logic, and for reasons even his genius cannot surmise, the love of his life. An ancient task mage, she discovered immortality after mastering the true alchemical mysteries of fire, and its place within life. An exceptional healer, she truly is Sol's opposite, originally controlling the other half of the nexus when he rested control from Marcentile. While they met originally as dignitaries, a spark flared up, one she persued almost exclusively, due to Sol's self-ignoring nature. Their courtship would eventually become the stuff of legends, though convoluted and corrupted through the windows of dimension and time. Eventually though, they bind though their souls together in an eternal union that served to restore the nexus as well. A tall woman in her own right, Hardt is as strong and healthy as her name would imply, pulsing with life itself. With a voice that could put angels to shame, she is quite the adept songstress, often singing a light tune as the day begins to enliven the spirits of this around her. Long, flowing red hair cascades down her back, frequently tied into a loose braid and bound with jewels. She tends to wear sleeveless, low cut shirts and loose dresses, often of white, red, and orange hues. But when one has taken the mantles of love, joy, and beauty, one does more to show them through natural states, than artifice. Even with her elevation to divinity, she has retained more than a few of her more human desires. As a result, she is somewhat less than monogamous, but that has never bothered Sol. Despite his preferences to drudge in grave and toil with the dead, he recognizes the need for the living to attain such carnal pleasures. But carnality and love are not the same thing, and while she may feel lust and satisfaction with those whom she cavorts, in the end, she loves him, and that's good enough. In the end, Hardt is a loving, peaceful but passoinate god. Which serves only to confuse Sol more on the state of "love." (What inspired me to finally write something upon Hardt: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAoHOdKCxCM )
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Posted: Mon Jul 02, 2007 6:47 am
Story concept (Hunter/Vampire/Mage?)
Season: Winters end (the long night period)
Group of Hunters (Imbued/mundane, doesn't matter) travel up north (Yukon/NWt area) following a lead (old adversary/news article/family member, determine hook appropriately). Arrives in a small town that seems oddly deserted. Various vehicles and such parked in front of the houses, but no lights on. Eventually the PCs come to the local bar, the only building in the entire time with lights on.
5 occupants: Bartender (Harold Unrein) [usual tired bartender image]
Drunk (Peter Brecan) [high class arrogant drunk]
Card Player 1 (Jack Hecate) [skinny black fellow, kinda sheepish, nervous]
Card Player 2 (Albert Valr) [large, red-faced man, reeking of booze, but with oddly shifting eyes]
Card Player 3 (Elysia Viziare) [average build, stern faced woman, brown hair tied into a mid-shoulders braid, seemingly on edge]
Play out scene as it may, bearing in mind the close. Dependent on PCs actions and reactions, spring the trap in time for the fight to roll into the streets. Allow players a good chance (for once) but keep things going until sunrise. Play up the shock, dismay, and general confusion as the vampires find out firsthand about one of their more exploitable weaknesses.
If PCs leave immediately, make sure not encounter with real antagonists is far harder.
If PCs stay to investigate, allow them to find storehouse, and provide further clues.
As always, play from the hip.
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2007 2:37 pm
Plot Synopsis: "I. Am. Iron Man."
Tony Stark, billion industrialist, super genius, undergoes a trying experience as seen in "Execute Program." Heeding the doctor's warning about Extremis inducing paranoia in its subjects, as well as the obvious weakness of being commanded by others skilled enough to hack into his brain, he proceeds to seclude himself away in the homes of finding a work around, if not a way to remove Extremis completely.
Still feeling a great deal of responsibility towards the world at large as well as the superheroing community, he modifies "Tony 2.0" so that it can fill in for him completely in his stead, both as Iron Man and Tony Stark. He considers telling the other heroes, at least Steve Rogers, but opts not out of fear that word might somehow get out and he fall under the sway of another mad programmer.
For the next period of time (from post EP through World War Hulk) he works intently, tuning out all external distractions, given the personal, and he feels, global, importance of his task. Finally, determing that there is no reasonable way to guarantee he won't be hacked again, he opts for the general adjustment of Extremis. Reducing its abilities to merely that of extremely advanced nanites (enhancing his own processing power, mildly increasing his strength and reaction time, functioning as medical nanites, etc.) he also designs a new suit to fill in some of Extremis's lost abilities, without the paranoia or external access issues. Redesigned, restored, and feeling quite proud of himself, he returns to the world at large to take back his role, only to discover the horrible state of things. Steve is dead, Bruce has runamok, and what he initially believes to be Tony 2.0 has apparently gone insane, taking over SHIELD and instituting the registration act.
Accosted almost immediately by a cape killer squad (as this new design is unregistered) he is forced into hiding as it becomes quite evident to him that things have gone downhill very fast in his stead.
Now, Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist, super genius, must determine what actually happened, who's behind it all, and reclaim a world that he had more import in that he ever really realized.
(In effect, it shapes up to be a sort of Rip Van Winkle story. Only, instead of life turning out better after his little nap, it's gotten a great deal worse, so he shoulders the burden to fix it.)
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 4:22 pm
Quandary: "What's wrong with Wing and what would improve it?"
It was this particular topic in /m/ that sparked a discussion amongst me and my fellows last Friday. I'm going to put up the fundamental points, and our proposed solutions. If anyone still even comes here anymore, feel free to contribute.
Mobile suits
1. "Leos are made of gasoline-soaked cardboard, fire, and explosions."
As anyone whose watched Gundam Wing can atest to, Leos might as well be Will-o'-the-Wisps, given how little time they spend as something other than exploding matter. The show explains this away as proof of how amazingly advanced the Gundams are, but it really takes away from the show when most of the fights are that one-sided. It turns every battle into a pointless show of fire power.
What's more, the Leos are supposed to be dumbed down incarnations of the Tallgeese. Now, admittedly, they are dumbed down, but to the point it's hard to believe OZ was a threat to anyone at all.
Solution: The answer here is an obvious one: improve the visible combat abilities of the Leos. Have them take beam shots and lose a limb, not merely explode. Have them actually harm the Gundams in some fashion. Sure, Amuro basically ignored Zaku machine gun fire, but the bazooka and the Heat Hawk were clearly a threat. Have the same with the Leos. Have them use battle tactics. Treat these people like trained soldiers in weapons of war, not cowards in exploding boxes. Sure, the Gundams can beat them, but make it seem at least a little challenging.
2. "The Mercurius and the Vayeate designs, which seriously gave the Wing-0 a run for its money, were consolidated into the Virgo, which was a threat to the elderly and maimed only."
This stands as one the single weirdest occurrences in the shows design philosophy. They have this great versus scene with Heero and Trowa against Quatre in the 0, and they do a solid job against it. Why not set this up as a permanent two-man team format? God only knows. Not only to they scrap it, the merger is worthless. The planet-defensors are all well and good, except Virgo have no melee ability to speak of, so if you get by them, they're sunk.
Solution: The answer here, again, is obvious: retain the pair system. A long range, high power MS paired with a high-speed, high-defense melee MS is a golden idea, enough to make those pairs Wings "Gelgoog." All of sudden, the late series upgrade is necessary; these pair designs are beating them so badly they have to be rebuilt to compensate. Tactics change, and the Wing pilots have to act like a serious team if they wanna win any fire fights at all. Sure, they're still cannon fodder mecha, but there's that delicious sense of tension there that makes things worth watching.
3. "The Ver. Kai/Ver. EW were lame visually."
Solution: Now, that's really an opinion argument, but it came up all the same. As such, I opted to skip right to a "solution" since it's hard to back up a point like that.
The reasoning was largely how either unnecessary or utterly flaky the designs were. As much as the Hell looked cool with big ******** batwings, they served no real purpose and from an MS design perspective, were pretty stupid. The Wing's angel wings hardly fit the terrorist/sociopath motif that was Heero, and as Vern systems, they were painful to me who loved the Zeph. Sandrock had a bitchin' cloak, that it cut away in no time at all, revealing fundamentally the same old Sandrock. Heavy Arms still couldn't really conserve ammo, and Wu Fei's unit was still a poor man's Dragon Gundam. The only thing that got a collective thumbs up was the Tallgeese III.
The answer in this case is actually really easy, take/slightly modify the Ver. Ka designs. In most cases, just go straight up Ver Ka (links at bottom). In the case of Sandrock, run the Ver. Ka, with the Waltz cape, and pull a page from Crossbone Gundam: make it an ABC (Anti-beam Cape). Have it retain the cape for a good while before suffering some massive hit (say a direct Vayeate shot) burning away part of the cape and getting a nice "wounded warrior" type scene.
Again though, this is fundamentally aesthetic.
4. "There needs to be more Tallgeese!"
Now, this was backed up. Tallgeese spends most of the series as the only real threat to the Gundams. Zechs is an awesome pilot, and the Tallgeese is ungodly powerful, but they spend a lot of the time not fighting, when any officer with a brain would be demanding it be in the field constantly, if not being reengineered and mass-produced. The general point to the statement is, again, the lack of any real threat to the Gundams. Even the Epyon takes forever to surface, and does very little in the course of its time.
Solution: Obviously, more Tallgeese. Even with the improvements to the standard models mentioned, having the Tallgeese around more really drive home the idea that the Gundams are scene as a threat. This MS kills people who pilot it, and yet they're willing to take that risk to drop these things. As for the Epyon, intro it earlier, and when even is getting a revamp, put in the Aquarius. It was a good concept design and would make the final assault on Libra that much cooler.
5. "The dolls shouldn't work like that."
Apparently, a gentleman in /m/ happened to be robotics major, and basically said that dolls really shouldn't function in the fashion they do. It's too complicated to be that rapidly adaptable for most computers, especially ones that are mass produced, and therefore, likely cheap.
Solution:
This is, actually, one of my favourite solutions, because it lets me make the doll manufacturers a bit mad-scientist like, while also showing the outcomes of war. I'll be switching to a storyteller's format at this point to illustrate the point.
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"Gentleman, you asked me to come up with a solution for the damage wrought by the these Gundams. All the mobile suits we can create mean little without pilots, and pilots are rapidly becoming few and far between. Even the draft is failing to produced viable numbers as those monstrosities chew up anything we throw at them. Well, I have determined an answer, albeit a gruesome one.
I'm sure, once I reveal this, many of you will be repulsed, but hear me out: this is not an enemy mere training can defeat. Those boys believe in their cause wholeheartedly, and therein lay their strength. Only by matching, if not surpassing, their conviction, can we truly hope for victory."
The assembled leaders squirmed slightly as one stood up.
"Get on with it Markov, or we'll be leaving."
"My apologies general, my apologies. My point merely, is that you asked me to design a machine that could best a man. Such a task cannot be done. Machines are tools, nothing more. They cannot hope to beat man, unless the man is a nothing but a tool himself. As such, your request was flawed from the start. As a result, I changed it. Gentleman, I present to you the 'Puppeteer' system."
The monitors flashed on, a green lit cylinder, containing the mangled remains of a man. His limits were gone, though cabling stood in their place. One eye had some sort of a node protruding from it, while the other was closed. He looked like a butchered cadaver hanging on display.
"This, gentlemen, is sapper Anthony Cartwright." The screens crushed in, revealing the face of a young man in his early 20s, as his personal data scrolled beneath.
"A Leo pilot, his squadron was devastated by the Gundam Heavy Arms upon it's initial recorded appearance. The only survivor of that conflict, I found him in a hospital bed, hanging onto life by a thread. Barely responsive, it took a great deal of time before he would recognize my presence, and even longer before he could communicate. I asked him what he wanted, now that he was a destroyed man with no hope of living anything resembling a productive life. His response was exactly what I'd hoped for, he wanted revenge."
One of the other officers spoke up "So, this kid agreed to be strung up like meat in a butcher's window, to get revenge? I find that a bit hard to believe."
"Then, you sir, don't know how strong the desire for revenge can be. Not just this man but many men. I've scoured every battlefield those boys have touched, and found more victims each time, kept alive only by a wanton desire to kill those who have destroyed them."
"So, what you're saying, is we take the guys who've already lost, but now have a reason to fight, and field them? That's retarded. They're half-dead failures, what can they do?"
Markov massaged the bridge of his nose. "Sir, with all do respect, only a fool would think of such an idiotic idea. No, I am not going to put maimed combatants into mobile suits. Instead, I've connected them directly to an interfacing suite and switching software my fellows have designed. Each of these damned soldiers, at this point exceeding 100 in number, are directly linked a Taurus unit. Should that unit be destroyed, there is a 3 second black out and then they are back in the fray as another Taurus. The delay is to prevent system shock as the perceptions have to reorient themselves following the units destruction. The cylinders containing them keep them alive and well, and occupy very little space onboard a battle cruiser. As well, Perkins, another of our engineers, is working on designing an improved battle cruiser that would allow for more troops, and far more MS units. Given enough time and funds, we would eventually be able to field entire fleets of highly advanced units through only a few wounded 'Puppeteers.' So, gentleman, what do you say?"
Glances were spread about the room, as it sat deathly silent for time that seemed to stretch uncomfortably on.
"Where do we sign?" They eventually responded.
Markov smiled, and began to work out the dealings.
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And that's the solution.
As it stands, I'm gonna take a break right now, and return to this a bit later.
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Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2007 2:15 pm
Sol entered the Hall of Monuments. His right shoulder ached, the muscles enflamed from the repeated volley of arrows he'd placed into the Destroyers that day. Beside him, Max obediently walked, though her purr was unsteady; she was getting on in years, and a life of constant adventuring was wearing on her a great deal.
Kneeling, he gently pet his dearest companion and she rubbed up against him. They'd been through far more than any should since his early days as a cadet; fought gods and monsters, crossed oceans and toxic deserts, seen and done more in 8 years than many would do in two lifetimes. And, while the Hall reminded him constantly of what he'd done, what he'd gained and lost, it also centered him, a stable point in a world of chaos.
Slight murmur, nary louder than something uttered by a mouse, echoed out from the center of the room. In an instant, the bow was out, the arrow drawn, and Max's teeth were barred.
Edging towards the center of the room, the pair found the source of the noise, eliciting a slight chuckle from Sol as he returned his weapons: the young woman Gwen was asleep on the floor, apparently dreaming.
She was an unfortunate girl in many respects; bound by a desire for vengeance, she'd said she was from Ascalon, his home, from before the days of the Searing. The shadows of her past flitted about her like moths to a flame, it was clear her time with Charr had done greater harm than even she realized. He dared not consider exactly what they might've done to her, disspelling such thoughts he knelt beside her to move an errant strand of hair from her face.
As his gloved hand touched her cheek, her eyes flashed open and a knife was against his throat before even his battle-honed skills could react.
"Touch me again and I'll-"
"Gwen, it's me. It's Sol." He replied to the obvious and bitter threat.
Sleep bleeding from her eyes, she blinked again "Sol? I... sorry. I'm a little defensive when I sleep."
"Don't worry about it child. Max and I are about the same, aren't we booboo?" He said with a slight smile as Max rubbed against her, purring loudly now.
...to be continued...
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