Enclave on Dal Hutta

[BLADE]

One of the strange things about freedom was remembering or relearning how all the little things you used to take for granted were what kept you whole. For Balthazar the little things that mattered was being able to sleep in a bed. Not a cot. Not shackled. It was being able to walk where he pleased; getting lost in the Dal Hutta crowds. It wasn't a gorgeous and dreamy place like his home planet of Idyll, but it was free. For him at least.

And of course, meditating. He'd been marshaling the Force for a communique. Gathering information. From what had trickled in, the Knights were in a bad shape. But then he knew that. The Force told him. Whispered to him that he was the one who could make things right.

Force grant me strength.

The coded messages and the message sent through the Force had found its messengers. The Sith would doubtless come in their time, but they would be gone by then. For now, now they had to take on a tradition foreign to theirs.

But one he had read and admired. The Jedi Enclaves. It was said that when the Order was at crisis, Jedi would meet in specified worlds, the Force and their purpose guiding them there.

The Imperial Knights had never been Jedi.l They never would be, much though Balthazar admired the monastic order. He could not blame them for the Sith resurgence. Perhaps they had been complacent. But then so had the Imperial Knights. And there was a touch of destiny to the Sith. They were fools, but they were fools of fate.

So the messages were sent. As he sat meditating in his room he could feel the flickers of energy starting to arrive. Individual little points of light in the Force.

His eyes opened. He hovered off the ground for a moment, before letting go gently of his grip on the Force, lowering himself gently to the ground.

Points of light. Enough to illuminate the galaxy.

Hope.

 

[Dmitri]

K's speeder arrived at the rendezvous point. He wore a cloak to hide his identity.

K had helped reserve the meeting place, buying the land as to keep outsiders out. It wasn't easy, and K was considering using the land later to build a hotel. The hotel would generate money and could secretly house Imperial Knights occasionally if needed.

K looked around to see if he could find Balthazar or Athos.

 

[SoloWing]

((OoC: Ninja'd. Let me know if this needs changed.))

A single transport shuttle, innocuous and unassuming, descended through the atmosphere. Several moments ticked by before the shuttle came to rest outside of the estate with the creak and groan of aging metal. A loud hiss broke the air as the engines began to cool.

It's pilot, an equally modest woman dressed in an unflattering jumpsuit of drab gray, disembarked from the shuttle and set foot upon the ground. Her hair was rumpled and her hands stained with grease. To the outside observer she appeared every inch the world-weary mechanic.

An aging astromech appeared in the shuttle's outside doorway. An exchange passed between the woman and the droid and then the droid shuffled back off to the depths of the transport. The woman turned away with a shrug and then approached the estate's front doorway.

Her hand came up and rapped upon the front door. It opened. The woman spoke: "M'name is Natale Rivare. Someone here sent me a message?"

 

[D.C.]

((OOC: The location was kinda vague and I only just saw in the OOC thread that we're meeting on a meadow... so I editted my post lol. No big deal though.))

“Hile Natale Rivare,” said the Knight-Errant who was in the hall at that moment and opened the door. He had a Southern Corellian drawl. “Come in quickly. It is good that thou hath come. Welcome.”

The man, who appeared to be somewhere in his mid-thirties, was tall, had a sun-bronzed skin and wore simple commoner’s clothes; a red and black checkered shirt and grey worn trousers, it made him look like some kind of lumberjack. He had long dirty-blonde hair that fell to his shoulders and a short, well taken care of beard. He looked like any other guy, except for his eyes... He had a pair of dreamy, unreadable ice-blue eyes. Cold eyes. There was no expression on his face, it was impossible to read his intentions.

Around his waist he wore a belt with a holster attached to it. The holster hung low at his hip and contained a heavy .50 blaster revolver with a sandalwood grip. It was a beautiful gun, and it was unique. One of a kind. That was the only visible weapon he carried.

“I am Roland Xall,” said the spellslinger. He nodded to her. “Cometh milady, we have a meeting to attend.”

Roland turned around and walked down the hall. He knew that the meeting would take place on a meadow near the sea, on the outskirts of the compound. That was where he was going. He wanted to be there early, before the meeting would take place, so he would not miss anything important.

 

[Jacques]

Gaspar and Balthazar's younger friend Athos had been the only ones who had stayed with him after the quick, effective rebellion that overthrew Adipos, the once all-powerful Hutt lord. But for some reason the aging man wasn't quite convinced that he was safe and he wasn't all too keen on the idea of joining the Imperial Knights once more. It had been so long ago since they had exiled him from their order. It had been a tough blow to Gaspar, as it had been the only family he had ever really known not counting the slaves he grew up with...he never counted them.

What his long time friend Balthazar claimed would become the first, new Enclave for the Imperial Knights sent ice down Gaspar's spine. There were no pleasant memories there and he doubted if there ever would be. Walking around, he clutched closely at the sheathed sword at his side. Lana. A name he would have to make sure never to utter around Bal. It was on the other side of his belt, opposite of his lightsaber. He had made sure to run and grab that and his pistol from his ship, having been told the more secretive nature of the Imperial Knights that was in preparation.

But the ex-gladiator had no idea why, he wasn't even close to accepting the man's offer.

Gaspar found his way to Balthazar's room, and rapped on the door several times. Hearing a not-so-manly cry of come in he knew he was expected. The door whooshed open and the man one year older than Gaspar took a look at him. The old man pulled down his cloak's hood with both hands and looked his friend straight in the eyes.

"Are you sure this is a great idea, Bal?" He asked outright, "The Knights are in poor, poor shape. They're unorganized, running low on everything from supplies to meds to credits, and not to mention the fact that none of the elders ever seemed to treat any three of us with any sense of respect or even gratitude," The third was Lana, but he couldn't say the name. Gaspar knew Balthazar wouldn't mind it, but it pained him anyway.

Pacing closer to the bearded man, he attempted to let out a chuckle but instead let out a dry rasp for air. "Are you sure you're ready to take over? The Knights might be in a downward spiral that not even as bright a man as Balthazar Gallo could pull them out of it. And that means death, for everybody. Be it in a P.O.W camp or on the battlefield, and most of them will do it willingly. Are you sure you can take on that big a responsibility after, what, how long of being in Adipos's Ring?" Gaspar's tone was one of worry and caution. But he knew Balthazar wouldn't back down.

 

[BLADE]

The armor felt like a familiar friend. It was black now and rid of all Imperial Knights insignia. It was pared down for less restricted mobility, with stronger spaulders for grappling, and a weighted cape framing it. He remembered the first time he had been fitted for armor; the ambivalent smiles on his father's face. The feeling of wearing a mantle of both Imperial dignity and something... bigger.

He'd always been a democrat, but he could not deny the symbolism of the armor. The honor inherent in service. Even now, with all of its imagery and majestic filigree removed, it was still symbolic. The Knights would provide their continued service. Even at enormous cost. Or perhaps because of it. Lana had always teased him that he had a martyr complex.

Perhaps in time the war would prove her right.

As he snapped on his gauntlets and examined his helm, significantly modified and streamlined with an aquiline lower section for better functionality, he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said calmly.

He had already sensed him. His oldest friend Gaspar. And the swirling thoughts about him. Guilt. Presumably for not doing more to rescue him. Who knew? He could not carry his friend's burden, though he wished he could share in it.

The other old man came in, a rueful smile on his face. He was determined to ask a question he knew the answer to. He did.

Balthazar smiled, "My time beyond the galaxy taught me to be sure of very little. I know only what my conscience and the Force tells me. And they tell me that we must do this. That respect and hierarchy and the petty politics of our old Order mean little. Tabula rasa, my friend. We have a new slate on which to write great deeds. Some of them will be fell deeds too. But we have no choice. Or rather I do not. I will not consider it dishonor or disloyalty on your part if you wish to have no role in this endeavor of mine. But I must tread this path."

 

[Lupe]

Isorak's ship flew into Dal Hutta's atmosphere, almost unnoticed. It had taken Isorak weaks to find out about the Enclave, weeks in cantinas all over the galaxy, and weeks of no sleep. But it all paid off, Isorak finally found them and now he could restore his honour and name.

The Vacuity made a soft landing on Dal Hutta, under the calm hands of Isorak. If it was one thing that Isorak did not foget how to do, it was piloting, now that is not a statement trying to say he's the best at piloting but that he was pretty darn good. Meanwhile Isorak put on his hooded cloak, allowing the hood to cover his face, and grabbed his Lig swords, holstering them on his sides, while allowing his lightsabers to stay on his back, as to not frieghten anyone or expose himself, but still maintain a good weapon near him.

The ramp of The Vacuity lowered and soon after it, Isorak walked out, putting on the last part of his outfit, his old Kaleesh Mask. Afterwards Isorak made his way to the Rendevouz of the Imperial Knight. After a few minutes he reached the door to the Estate where they were supposed to meet. Isorak knocked on the door saying "Isorak Kanto, Imperial Knight" his voice was a near whisper, and he had checked no one was around when he said the last part. He then waited infront of the door for admission inside.

 

[Lexian Praxeus]

Elicia was uncomfortable here. She had spent the last year infiltrating the criminal organization within Jigunna in Hutt Space when she was ordered for extraction. Having no contact with her fellow Knights for the past year, she was very unfamiliar with any changes that might have come about within the organization.

She had changed her appearance, looking closer to her true identity than she had in sometime, and was walking through the crowds of Dal Hutta. She had been onplanet for two days, keeping her distance from the rendezvous point she had been designated to locate. Having moved through a path she had plotted out the day prior, she felt confident she had moved through the area undetected.

Wearing a white tunic covered by a forest green shaw that dropped to her knees, Elicia had become very skilled at hiding in plain sight. She was beautiful for a human and knew it, so there was no point attempting to blend in, but she also had to prepare for any outbursts of severe coughing and hacking which would give her away if she attempted to sneak through the crowd. Rather, she walked through the streets and used the numerous onlookers towards her to her advantage.

She knew she was near the rendezvous point and though she made no noticeable movements, she mentally prepared herself for defense. She was worried that the transmission might have been a trap since she had been away from the Knights so long. For all she knew, they could no longer exist. They might have a new leader. She had no clue. But she found herself moving into the area behind a human male that seemed to be in his mid-30's and she found herself sliding into the location behind him.

 

[Hawkins]

It had been some time since Axim had moved at such a pace. His every step was light and enthusiastic and accompanied by the tap of a cane that currently seemed more an ingrained movement than out of actual necessity. He was in deep thought over his unpleasant time in Dal’Hutta, having been on the planet since the end of the slave rebellions hosted by Gallo. Well acquainted to his solitude for the last four years on the wasteland planet of Tatooine, Axim was not yet accustomed to the loud, fast paced city life that seemed to ebb from the immense citadel. He had been propositioned on nearly every street by merchants of all sorts, prostitutes, drug dealers, and even the occasional thug, and as a result contempt seemed to be more of what he felt toward the bothersome planet than anything else.

However, it wasn’t as if he was here for a vacation. He had come out of hiding for one reason, to save Gallo and with Balthazar being able to do that himself, his next decision was decisive – to once more aid his fellow Knights. Having received the message from Balthazar to meet him and the fellow members in a meadow on the outskirts of the city, Axim had immediately set out afterwards. The only thing he bought before his trip to the meadow was a new outfit comprising of an off-white and blue tunic and a pair of worn out white pants. The new outfit contrasted with his naturally darker features which produced a decently attractive look. His hair was worn down which was rare for him and his beard had been recently trimmed. The cane as always, was his ever present companion, trailing alongside his every step with a firm tap on the ground below.

Suddenly he realized that in his contemplations he had stumbled upon his mark. He rapped on the door a few times with his cane before pressing himself close to the door and quietly uttered his name and rank in the Imperial Knights. Now he waited, a small, weathered smile splaying across his face. He was looking forward to seeing his order once more. For even if it was only a small and depleted source of its former self, he was placid in the knowledge that it would grow and that, more importantly, that he was finally among his allies after so long.

 

[Jax Vos]

Evasi had followed Isorak at a distance. It wasn't unusual for a bounty hunter to be this deep in Hutt space, but to go near this area was now risky. However, Evasi wasn't here as a bounty hunter, but as an Imperial Knight. She approached the door to the estate and knocked. Te'va'sil, Imperial Knight. She knew this could be risky.

 

[Dmitri]

K entered the meeting area. He greeted Balthazar then made his way to a chair to sit on. He didn't know most of the people here, so he kept to himself, though if anyone approached him, he would greet them and socialize. However, he was the outsider. He and Athos were not original Imperial Knights. K wouldn't be surprised if the old knights didn't suspect them of being spies.

 

[Wit]

As the two of them walked from his shuttle to their destination, a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea, Aemon’s thoughts went to his youth, the times spent on the beach with his brother and cousins. Inadvertently his thoughts went to his sister-in-law and nephew still on Valahari. He should be there right now, with them, looking after them like he had promised his brother. But the Sith had forced him away from his home, from his family. The only way now for him to keep his promise was to first defeat the Sith and get them out of Imperial space.

And that was why he was here, in the middle of Hutt space, walking next to a man he had thought to be dead, answering the call of another man who the entire Galaxy had assumed to be dead. The Imperial Knights had been brought to the brink of destruction, but they were not completely beaten just yet. Today would see them reborn once more, that much he had become sure of during the rebellion.

As they reached the meadow where Balthazar had said everyone would be gathering, he turned to look at his companion, the man’s scared face not even bothering him in the slightest anymore.

“Ready to jump back in?”

 

[Raif]

The trip to Dal Hutta had not been an enjoyable one for the burned Knight. Due to the presence of the dark side within his scarring, the ghastly wounds on his face never could be considered truly 'healed.' Instead, the pain was constant, being aggravated every time Scourge spoke, turned his head, blinked, swallowed, etc. In an effort to dull the pain Scourge had spent his time since escaping Sith captivity in an almost constantly-inebriated state.

Traveling to Dal Hutta, however, had not been something he had planned to do; rather, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision after re-meeting Aemon Vane. As such, the burned man ran out of booze very quickly, and he was faced with a tough decision: he could either spend the rest of the trip in agonizing pain, or allow the part of himself that was Gareth to take over and allow them to enter a healing trance.

He struggled with the decision, but eventually allowed himself to slip into the healing power of the Light side of the force...

...looking back on that decision now, as he approached the meeting point with Aemon, Scourge deeply regretted the decision. The temporary relinquishing of power had emboldened Gareth's spirit, and the usually cowed and subdued Knight was pushing against Scourge's control more than normal.

Come on, these are my people, let me run things.

"No."

Great, well, I'm sure you're going to do a great job of convincing them we're a psychopath. Seriously, just for the initial meeting, let me out.

"No, dammit. Now shut the hell up, you're giving me a headache."

Yeah, sure, blame your headache on the voice in your head. Well let me know how it goes; I bet within minutes they recognize us for the rabid dog we are and put us to the sword.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you."

No, you sick fu--

Gareth's comment was cut off as their companion, Aemon, asked if they were ready. Before answering, Scourge lifted the hood of his traveling cloak and made sure it hung low enough to hide his disfigurement; he also used a slight telekinetic pull to keep the edge covering his burn from being blown aside from the wind. He was not ready for them to see his true self yet. Scourge then turned to Aemon, his face expressionless.

"We're as ready as we'll ever be, right? But maybe you should lead the way, since you're the one he's expecting and all. I'm just a dead man risen from the grave, right?"

A poetically accurate statement, that.

"Shut up."

 

[Icaro]

: prelude, still don't know if we're outside or inside or where everyone is

The slick-silver corridors of the satellite structure winded before him, swift footfalls pattered down as he sprinted to the hangar. When the door whirred open before him the hangar stretched out its mighty gullet, threatening to swallow him, he stopped, panting with hands against tired aged knees and he let out an exasperated sigh. Swinging his head up to meet the crew before him he could sense the hurry.

Engineer Jonah Haddolt was the one who received the transmission from Dal Hutta, the remnants of the order were gathering there to count their numbers and, if luck permitted, mount a counter initiative.

There was just one problem that was keeping the Knights here, on this rendezvous satellite, one little hiccup that they couldn’t seem to overcome simply. A prisoner locked away in the cells, for some time, it seemed. In the chaos after Seoul he had been all but forgotten, it was only when the few personnel aboard the satellite received the transmission from Dal Hutta that they had found him while gathering the weapons from the prisoner deck to take with them.

Despite the organization of the old order, there seemed to be few records of Prisoner #009. From what Jonah could dig up, he was some kind of suspect in the brutal murders of a squad of Imperial Knights some months ago, all accounts pointed to him being a Sith assassin on an anti-Knight voyage who had gotten lucky. Jonah had insisted on questioning him in lieu of a quick execution, and that’s where the trouble began.

Instead of answering any questions, the Prisoner simply repeated the phrase “Parley” over and over in response to any sort of questioning. Some digging revealed Parley to be part of a mythical set of ancient codes, the “Right of Parley”, it had said, was the right of any prisoner to request to be taken to the captain of a vessel without harm.

Not one to ignore tradition, especially with such an intriguing case, Jonah was now ready to escort the prisoner himself, to Dal Hutta, for an audience with the new leadership.

They arrived on Dal Hutta mere days after receiving the initial message in a small cargo shuttle. The crew of forty-five men, mostly engineers and computer technicians has seized everything they could in the short time they had from the station, guns, ammunitions, but most importantly, digital records and transmissions all kept neatly filed. If the Knights were entering a new era, these arrivals would surely bring all the knowledge required that they not forget their past.

As they disembarked, a hovering platform was drawn with them bearing a silver box housing Prisoner #009, the rest would remain on the shuttle for now, but Jonah, the current head of this team of engineers, felt is pertinent to get this man to the commander as soon as possible to tie up any loose ends that may lead the Sith to their location if he were indeed, an assassin.

The enclave rested on the horizon. They would be there soon.

 

[D.C.]

Roland Xall, on his way to the meadow by the sea, exited the building and stopped for a moment to feel the cool wind caressing his sun-bronzed skin. Very slowly his right hand went down to the six-shooter on his right hip, and he clenched the weapon’s sandalwood grip. Someone was following him.

He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw a silhouette. A young woman

(Elicia)

was following him, but he had not seen this woman before. He looked ahead of himself again and turned his eyes towards the meadow in the distance. Of course he could not be sure, but the young woman who was following him had to one of the Imperial Knights. How else would she know about this location? Deciding that he’d find out soon enough—and that if this woman was an intruder he’d kill her—he moved on. And these thoughts reminded him of just how paranoid he had been lately. It wasn’t healthy.

Roland walked towards the meadow and as he got closer he could see a familiar person up ahead. A person he had once travelled with, questing for an ancient artefact that had once belonged to one of Roland’s ancestors. That man over there was Aemon Vane. Roland was glad that he saw a familiar face here.

He approached Aemon and stopped at a respectful distance. He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed to Aemon, a sign of respect and acknowledgement. He rose to his full length again and said in his powerful voice: “Hile Justicar. We meet again.” Roland’s ice-blue eyes were dreamy like they always were, unreadable. His face was emotionless, he looked serious.

In the distance he heard the murmur of the ocean. This was a calm and peaceful place. Roland wondered just for how long this place would remain peaceful.

War was going to tear everything apart.

 

[Natise]

David eyes shot open, and he looked around his surrounding. He was still on the ship he had used to escape the Chiss. He currently was lying in bed with two females, who's names he could not remember. After carefully raising himself out of bed, he made his ways to the cockpit. A small droid was piloting the ship, and after checking the coordinates, David could see that they were heading towards Dal Hutta. They would be landing in about an hour. With a quick stretch, David headed off to get ready.

The ship landed, and David emerged out of it. He donned his black combat outfit with a red robe over it. Unsure of the knights current status he openly donned his light saber on his side not attempting to hide it in any way. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, David found himself in the presence of many other knights. He recognized almost all of the faces, but knew none of the names. He was really bad with names.

After awkwardly standing a few feet off from the group, David saw the shiny metal box. It most likely contained some sort of nut job. His curiosity peaking, David made his way that way and stood next to the prisoner, excited to see who was inside.

 

[Crosby]

The former Knight turned smuggler had just landed his precious Vetitus II in the flattest place he could find. He had flown it to Dal Hutta by himself, he didn't feel right hiring a new first mate at the time. He walked down the ramp being hit by a nice breeze of cool air as the sun hit his skin. He stood tall, looking forward as the ship ramp closed behind him. He had an aura if determination and confidence about him.

Truth be told, Jotunn was nervous.

He Hadn't seen or heard from any Imperial Knight for around 10 years, aside from one particular case. Ryloth that is, no, not the planet, but the former Imperial Knight turned Sith who's life ended by his own light saber, in a way most would probably describe: amusing. But that's the past, and all Jotunn could think of was the future, reuniting with the Knights in the near and rescuing his dear friend Iricich in the distant.

It was only a couple of days ago when he got in contact with the person who claimed to be a friend of the Knights. He had no idea whether or not he was heading straight for a trap or not. Only a location and time, no names, nothing. He could not feel if it were right or wrong to go, it was as if someone had purposely hide themselves. In all honesty though Jotunn hadn't had the connection with the force he once did lately, so he flipped a coin and hoped for the best.

He had taken his time getting to the meeting location, he didn't bother getting his speeder of his ship as he arrived early enough to walk. He was taking mental notes on the local area, he wanted to be extra aware of his surroundings. Jotunn remembered hearing about a rebellion that had taken place in this system, that was about it though.

When he was in viewing distance of the meeting place he suddenly felt it, it was coming back now, he knew this was his destination. Well, the first step to getting there at least.

 

[BLADE]

Gaspar frowned but seemed to take Balthazar's words at face value. For now. They were friends and had to trust each other with their lives. Like in the old days. Balthazar clasped his friend on the shoulder warmly.

"We shall have time to debate this more," he said at last, calmly placing the helmet on his head. It was fashioned in an almost Mandalorian fashion, with a nearly t-shaped visor, and an aquiline sleekness to it. There was a hiss as the helmet locked.

He strode out from the building towards the great stone table. It had been a labor of both love and the Force, as he had telekinetically hewn rock out of the landscape to serve as the place of spiritual rebirth for the Knights.

They had much do to do.

Discreetly he walked amongst the would-be knights, milling among the familiar faces, being comforted by a welling presence of the Light.

Hope.

 

[Orphen]

Enter Ethan Atreides.

It was the anniversery of the Loss of the 'Black Wings' A squad of Echani pilots which had served under Ethans' command, unable to keep up, they perished. Ever since Ethan had been hunting the Empire whenever he could, backing up criminals in imperial space. Ensuring to become as big-a-pain-in-the-ass to the Empire as he possibly could. It had given him a name.

Though Recently, one of these groups called themselves, they were under light fire, so, Ethan thought it would be fun to stage a one man strafing run with his interceptor, forcing their assailants to retreat very, very quickly. 'Imperial Knights' they called themselves, they sounded like a group which prized the old foundations and ideals of the Empire, Ideals that Ethan somewhat agreed with, they talked a lot about honour, companionship, and things that befitted their title.

Giving them evac before larger reinforcements could accumulate, they escaped the planet and hit hyperspace quickly. They were suprise to see Ethans ability to pilot without a hyperspace route. WOAH! YOU'RE GOING TO END US ALL!!!

Calm your asses down! i've done this more times than you've erected your oversized lightsaber.

He retorted, and headed in the direction they were going, it was soon after than they found out that he was almost meditating, and using a powerfully honed sense of precognition to pilot. Though he was moving slower than regular hyperspace, the alternate route more than made up for the time. Arriving in hutt space they'd convinced Ethan that these guys may just be worth checking out. Ethan had memories of helping out guys like these with the Echani, to which they were alligned. But, such were years gone by.

Landing in the starport, the other knights began to speak. Allright, we'll see you around then... But Ethan Didn't take that lying down, he was in this now, and he intended to follow through. They relented, as they owed him one. So, they took him along.

Ethan arrived early on the scene with the other nobodies, and approached the small group, but watched as they rose in number over time listening. long white hair and green eyes. in one of his fingers he span a niftly looking blaster pistol, which seemed to have either a second barrel, or some kind of flashlight fixture beneath the primary barrel. The second of these pistols were on his belt. He walked in with a couple of the nobodies but distanced himself from the crowd, the ex Echani Flight Captain and still 'ACE pilot' looked over the others here, and was impressed. Apparently these knights had some bite in them...

 

[Shiuzu]

It had been an impressive turn out so far, Athos had been skeptical that anyone would show up, despite being a group of misfits they all seemed fighter material. Years in the gladiatorial pits had given Athos the ability to spot those who couldn't cut it, and who'd die first. While his abilities in the force were untrained Athos could sense the turmoil coming from the man who seemed intent on keeping his face hidden, a grin began to grow on Athos' face, he'd be an interesting man to know indeed.

He was unaccustomed to waiting around and discussing things as a committee. In the pits he was accustomed to swiftness, in battle, meals, they even rarely had an opportunity to grieve over their fallen warriors, the only thing he was used to lasting more than an hour was...of a private matter.

Needless to say he was on edge, despite heeding Balthazar's advice of patience, Athos wished nothing more than to get on their way with their new contingent of motivated warriors, though Athos believed his motives for fighting would differ from the now gathering knights, while most of them fought the revive some ancient relic of an Empire Athos fought for Balthazar.

Athos could care less for the neutered government that allowed him and his fellow gladiators to suffer in that hell for years, but if it was Balthazar's goal to bring back his fallen Empire, Athos would gladly follow the man whom he owed his life to.