Roth Glacies
It has been two years since the Taledonian invaders lit up the Alivant with destruction and death, invoking displays of their dispassionate firepower by decimating starships, scouring installations, and even razing the entire city of Book. This conflagration of the Zarithian homeworld still blazed brightly within the eyes of those resisting, the zeal of revenge towards these heretic aggressors seared into the hearts of those that had taken up the cause. A holy cause divined from Mishghan himself, to dispel this Taledonian scourge from the Alivant, to war until their righteous purpose had been fulfilled, to only rest once these blasphemers have paid for their irreverence with life and blood. For that is what has been envisioned, and so that is what must be done.
A sharp wind blew across the icy surface of Roth Glacies, the sound of the wind somewhere between a haunting whistle and an ominous howl. The Long Dark, a span of nearly forty-eight hours without sunlight, was upon the frosty field where the moon’s glow barely made a reflection among the grey and white of the near glacial expanse while temperatures dived past their already frigidly fatal level. A frozen rock of icy hell at the end of the Alivant, before it gives way to the Levartis Asteroid Belt, and then the endless expanse of space. And that was Roth Glacies before the war.
Now its frozen rocky landscape was charred and broken, covered in an icy crimson, the blood that had been spilled, and littered with frozen corpses waiting to be recovered and cremated. An expansive network of trenches, camps, and the climate resistant portable dwellings called “digs” by those that used them were filled with the bustling of at least a million people going about, splitting their time between their duties and rest. Food needed serving, equipment and weapons, especially in the cold temperatures, needed maintenance, the wounded needed tending, and hundreds of other tasks that needed to be completed were all composing of this living network. To the man standing high upon a rocky outcrop, it appeared as if the stars were not only above him, but below him on the surface as well. Tiny orbs of white, yellow, and faded blue light flickering and floating, or perhaps remaining completely still, dotted the vast expanse of the Zarithian battle line. More still flowed like a river behind it as the supply lines snaked in its wake. It was clear where the trenches ended and no man’s land appeared. Where the lights went out, all that was left was the expanding field between the Zarithians and the soft glow of light where the Taledonian trenches began. The treacherous land was all that stood between the two juggernauts vying for supremacy of the Alivant.
The man looked out, surveying the field of battle and the Zarithian encampment. The wind screamed in his ears around him, attempting to bite into any exposure of his flesh, but his Scale Suit kept him completely covered and maintained his body temperature, the grey colored lamellar and scale-like material tight around his lean body. On top of the suit he wore a hooded cloak, also grey, but of a darker shade. The hair on his head was covered by the skintight hood of the scale suit as well as the hood of the cloak, as the man had decided to forgo wearing the Scale Suit’s helmet this evening. Over his mouth, a matte chrome rebreather was strapped firmly in place, while his eyes were covered with tightened, face-covering goggles. The goggles’ lens were currently untinted, revealing the crisp blue eyes underneath that contrasted his pale skin.
Tonight, during the Long Dark, Roth Glacies was as calm as the icy world allowed itself to be. As the wind blew small clouds of white snow and icy pellets across it’s frozen surface, the adverse beauty of the planet was not lost to the man. In its own dark, dangerous, and broodingly foreboding way, Roth Glacies had a strange sense of comfort and serenity to it. As dawn broke however, this currently placid planet would awaken with the rage of Mishghan, acid would rain from the skies, and battle would be joined as the Holy Legions strove forth to cleanse their defiled land.
Liam would've been afraid at the horrors ahead of him, but Tethlashar only smiled. After all, he was Emperor; he was Mishghan Incarnate.
