The 228th Mountain Lion battalion faced a situation not entirely unlike General Custer some 500 years before. Like Custer's men, the 228th was almost completely destroyed, despite their laser cannons and drop ships.
"From his strange raft, the bizarre man stood, shell armor glistening in the sun. Bringing his stingray-barbed spear aloft, he howled: 'Be wary, trespasser! This reef is under my guard, and I her patronage! Bring not your boats near my shoal, lest you suffer the wrath of the Reef Knights!'"
- The logs Cpt. Creos Althea, Boshail Coast, 6 Ventôse 986.
18.) The Returning Veterans: These warriors are on their way back from a grim, hard fought war. Fatigue and weariness, despair and anguish are written on their features. Their honor drives them to complete one last mission, but they sense that they may never survive it.
Wulfhere, 30 Stalwart Bands
A tactical lay-out for villainous forces inspired by Warhammer 40K
The Commander sniffed, “They are a motley group.”
The Captain said, “We will get the job done”.
Go forth to war my son, and be absolved of your transgressions.
St. Acre the Just, Confessor General
I bring the sword, nothing more…
Most knights at least pretend to be on the side of Good and to defend the weak. Not so those of the Order of Rightous Victory-they are openly on the side of Evil and make no bones about it.At least, that is what they say to outsiders, but the truth is not quite as clear-cut as that.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman