Snowtalon: Sacred World, Part I
Above a dim night sky, do black clouds emerge float in the distance.
Two ominous moons, illuminating the Tralonian lands.
A floating city, hovering calmly.
Eyes betray perception, for this world is trapped by magic storms.
Its empire, the Tralonian Empire, in civil war.
Anarchy reigns supreme.
A crackling rift in the night sky slowly opens, an enormous vessel lurching forth from the inter-dimensional break. A portal between worlds. Between Earth, and Tralonia. This particular vessel was the mobile command base of a very special UNTIL unit. Praetor Garrison. UNTIL Carrier Invictus.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the portal worked!" Boomed from the intercom was a mild British voice, belonging to Captain Drake "Legatus" Campbell.
A gathering of UNTIL soldiers cheered in the troop bay as other Praetor Garrison members gathered around. At a thousand-strength, these specialist soldiers were amongst the best UNTIL have to offer. They were the best of the best. Many of them handpicked, others entering through volunteering. No matter how they entered, they are all willing to put down their lives for the sake of the greater good, and would do so valiantly.
In this bay stood many prestigious Praetor personnel. Staff Sergeant Eliza "Venator" Hensleigh, was an American reconnaissance specialist who preferred to strike with surprise and sometimes from a distance, never showing the enemy her hand. Standing next to her with his bulky arms crossed was the enormous, Australian, Sergeant-Major Hugh "Ballistarius" Trent, leader of the Ravagers division. Much like Praetor's commanding officer, his strengths lie in heavier weaponry. Looking over at the soldiers with another next to him was 1st Lieutenant Randall "Decanus" Cyrus, American unorthodox jet pack user and Major Salvador "Pilus" Belmonte, Spanish heavy armor operator.
Coming from smaller rifts were UNTIL Ospreys, heavily armed and armored, zooming across an alien world. It was amazing to see. The world was beautiful under night sky, and to see terrible black clouds with purple lightning bolts crackling was in drastic contrast. Then, right next to Invictus, lumbered forth a very big vessel all in its own right.
Jormungandr.
The massive ship that belonged to the organization Tyrian Materials Complex, who of which Praetor's leader was a deputy director of, and official liaison to. Tyrian Materials wasn't the best-received group by a handful of people, but the Colonel knew its members had their hearts in the right place. And at that moment did the leader step through the troop door to voice himself in front of Praetor Garrison, an eight-foot, very wide and muscular beast from neck-to-toe in power armour. None other than the one who had been banished from this very realm almost thirty years ago. Colonel Skarius "Brutus" Snowtalon, a Tralonian snow dragon himself. He was certainly of imposing figure, possessing a trio of scars running down his lips and a very striking gaze coming from his dimly-lit, astonishing amber eyes.
"Men and women of Praetor Garrison, who all signed up knowing this day would come! Today's the day of our first deployment, and with that, the first arsekicking we deliver!" Snow bellowed, with his signature British baritone. Many of the soldiers cheered in approval - the colossal dragon was certainly popular with his troops, many of them hearing of his exploits around the world. Occasionally, in other worlds. But what he had that was different to other commanders was a sense of dignity and genuine care for his soldiers.
"They won't expect us to be storming the gate. Others think we'd sneak around, try to find a chip in the armor. But not today, Praetors. Today, if those tyrants believe their ruler is a god, then they'll soon find out!" Again, the soldiers roared.
"These aren't my people. They're puppets! Under the control of a delusional madman who is trying to bring around the end of this very planet! Today, we fight for those people rotting in their prison cells! The ones breaking their backs as they are being used as slaves!"
"This day goes down in their history, and our history, as a moment of truth. My people deserve freedom as much as yours do, and today, we will give them that freedom!" Snow roared with triumph, his soldiers rallied to his cause.
"Sic semper tyrannis - thus, always with tyrants!" Came the final cheer, and Skarius stepped away from the edge of the balcony looking over the bay. Praetor Garrison soldiers down below congregated, preparing for the assault that would determine the fate of Tralonia. Kizameth, the floating capital city of Tralonia, was in the distance. Despite the rundown and downtrodden state of society within the city, and the many people who had become mind-controlled slaves to the tyrant rule, it retained much of the elegance it had before coming under a dictatorship. Snowtalon made his way through to the bridge of Invictus with the three other Praetor leaders behind him. Cpt. Campbell was awaiting the group and joined Skarius next to the holographic map which indicated Kizameth. The map was hovering over the "War Room" segment of the bridge, a large planning table in front of them.
"How are the men?" Campbell inquires, his brow perking.
"I think the concert-goer-like cheering says they're just fine." Cyrus casually jests about the situation. He was always the man to make a quick stab at someone or something. Not unlike Skarius himself.
Trent chuckles and shakes his head, a smile appearing on his face. "He knows how to win people over."
Belmonte smirks himself, his long black beard forming around it. "I could say he's quite charismatic, but that seems to suggest a little too much."
Skarius points to both of his earfrills. "You're all in my ears right now. Hensleigh, would you mind bringing the two in?" He asks of Eliza, who made her way to the door on the south-east end, opening it for two very colourful guests. These two were the heroes Illusionista and Gauntlet. Illusionista, commonly referred to by Snow as simply 'Nista', was a Colombian telekinetic and a powerful psychic. Gauntlet, on the other hand, or how he prefers to be called by his first name Sasha, hailed from Russia and possessed long brown hair and a strong jaw. He got his operational nickname from the two robotic prostheses he possessed in place of his arms, which granted him enhanced strength on top of being strong already. He was a very large man himself, a few inches short of Snow's height.
"Praetors, these are the heroes Illusionista and Gauntlet. They offered their assistance in the operation." Nista nodded, and Sasha did the same. While Sasha was a newcomer to Snow, having never really knew the man, Nista and Skarius went back a very long way. Once, Snow was a member of her organization, the Special Weapons and Ordinance Research Division. Commonly referred to by its acronym, S.W.O.R.D.
"You five will hold the perimeter and keep the Darkveil-affiliated Tralonians out. Once they let up their initial attack, press forward and keep them off our backs. Illusionista, Gauntlet and myself will head through the city with the assistance of the Tyrian members."
"Then what?" Staff Sergeant Hensleigh asks with curiosity.
"We make for the Internment Center first. Then, we seize the munitions factory. Can't have any of their soldiers near it, and the prisoners will need weapons. Then, everyone will keep the line held. I'll face Tharne, but it'll be hectic. He may have backup."
Gauntlet's brow perked underneath his wispy, brown hair. "But what if what he has under his sleeve tilts the battle in his favour, my friend? What then?"
A smirk parted the scars streaking over Snow's lips. "I have my own special weapon that they won't be expecting. Miss Enthyertur!" The dragon called, and through the door next that Illusionista and Gauntlet came through was a very peculiar individual...
II