- Joined
- Dec 28, 2011
- Messages
- 1,480
- Reaction score
- 2
[premise: set aboard STRAWMEN's only ship, Tetragrammaton. your characters have been hand picked and assembled aboard the ship for the STRAWMEN retinue of the Imperial Knights, you have been called to the War Room for your first briefing]
Despite the fact that he had given his squad ample time to go ahead in the War Room before him, they would find as they opened the large double doors that Kiln Roh, famed Soldier of Freedom and newly appointed Justicar of the Imperial Knights forces, was sitting at the head of a large machine which nearly resembled an intricate Galaxy Map. His battle-hardened mind touched gently on the swelling tumor that was the Map’s face before lifting off and focusing on the recruits who would accompany him in the War Room for their briefing.
A part of him was sad that the Jedi Orion would not be here today. Pushing him until his thin arms snapped would have been a pleasure nearly akin to slaying the empire himself.
Gevurah, which he held in his right hand, was brought up and impaled on the sheath beside the chair he sat on. Sparks flew from the wedged blade, flickering off the Justicar’s skin and tracing spider web arcs into the air. He paid them no mind. Some who met him in another life claimed that his veins flowed with lightning and that he couched thunder on occasion. He took a childish amusement out of such rumors; only a god could do such things and Kiln fancied himself no god.
A fear clutched him at the prospect of the lower cased god and he spasmodically clutched the cross he wore around his neck. His thumb ran across the engraving on its silver surface. As though blind he could read the word “Din” across the length of the cross with naught but his digits. It was a phrase he had sculpted into reality with fury and revolution.
The double doors began to swing open and Kiln brought himself to stand next to the myriad machines. One would be able to discern the circular shape nearly uniform to a sphere, along with the STRAWMEN insignia emblazoned here and there across its chasse, and the rail gun a yard away would further cement the idea that he had something terrible in mind. Dumbfounded with the squad’s slowness to come when called, he waited.
The War Room was a wide semi-circle of steel and technology. Hundreds of simulations could be run within the large room, all dangerous, and many had died underneath the hidden dangers the room held. But nothing would hinder nor aide the Squad that day. The War Room had been switched off and stood sentinel as a large gray obelisk with naught but the hulking hill Kiln stood on and the Justicar himself.
“What took you?” he asked, lazily.
Nothing more would be uttered from the acting Justicar until the remaining actors took their place on the stage.