Post by Crow on Aug 29, 2018 23:03:28 GMT
With the death of the Freedom Fighters' leader came the inevitable collapse of the faction shortly afterward. Once it had become apparent who had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the rockslide, the outcry of the rioters had escalated into its own small war. Fury and madness had all but consumed the crowd, and only a small handful had the sense to see this as an opportunity to escape.
Of course, even sense can only carry you so far.
Crow pulled the pocket square from his vest and began to wipe down his cane. He gave a brief, almost casual glance at the body at his feet, examining for any remaining movement. He had been courteous enough to address her as 'Your Majesty' before the first swing, but after the second, the third, and the seventh... well, there was little more to be said. While Crow didn't like to admit anything to luck, he couldn't help but find it fortunate to catch the lioness slinking away into the wilderness. He wondered what she had hoped to achieve by fleeing alone. Would she have tried to start anew? Find a new mate, produce a new royal line? Ah well. It hardly mattered now.
Crow tucked the square of cloth back into its pocket, taking the opportunity to rest against the trunk of an old leadwood as he surveyed what remained of the old faction's territory. There were stragglers, dazed as the bloodlust ebbed from their bodies. They looked upon the carnage, wary but exhausted. The muck had shone through the Freedom Fighters' polish now, and the landscape had the littered bodies of peacekeepers to show for it. As for the survivors of this bloody uprising, the air was left uneasy. What had transpired here was horrific, but in some small way, cleansing. Perhaps now they could try again. Perhaps this was a chance for them to rebuild anew, they must have thought.
Just then, the perimeter erupted into vortexes of green flame, and scores of Legionnaires came dutifully marching out. Crow produced his pocketwatch and flipped it open, an unseen smile tugging at his lip. Right on schedule. He left the infantry to the task of cleaning up, and turned his attention to two small dark spots on the horizon. Crow's brows knit together, watching the distant spacefaring ships as they fled with the last few slivers of the Freedom Fighters. He could fly after them, but even with just the sparse collection of soldiers, he would be outnumbered and overwhelmed. And he couldn't send a more subtle approach after them. Not yet. Of course, all things considered, perhaps these remaining few would simply abandon the war effort all together. Perhaps the Legion could be so lucky.
But then, Crow didn't like to admit anything to luck.
Of course, even sense can only carry you so far.
Crow pulled the pocket square from his vest and began to wipe down his cane. He gave a brief, almost casual glance at the body at his feet, examining for any remaining movement. He had been courteous enough to address her as 'Your Majesty' before the first swing, but after the second, the third, and the seventh... well, there was little more to be said. While Crow didn't like to admit anything to luck, he couldn't help but find it fortunate to catch the lioness slinking away into the wilderness. He wondered what she had hoped to achieve by fleeing alone. Would she have tried to start anew? Find a new mate, produce a new royal line? Ah well. It hardly mattered now.
Crow tucked the square of cloth back into its pocket, taking the opportunity to rest against the trunk of an old leadwood as he surveyed what remained of the old faction's territory. There were stragglers, dazed as the bloodlust ebbed from their bodies. They looked upon the carnage, wary but exhausted. The muck had shone through the Freedom Fighters' polish now, and the landscape had the littered bodies of peacekeepers to show for it. As for the survivors of this bloody uprising, the air was left uneasy. What had transpired here was horrific, but in some small way, cleansing. Perhaps now they could try again. Perhaps this was a chance for them to rebuild anew, they must have thought.
Just then, the perimeter erupted into vortexes of green flame, and scores of Legionnaires came dutifully marching out. Crow produced his pocketwatch and flipped it open, an unseen smile tugging at his lip. Right on schedule. He left the infantry to the task of cleaning up, and turned his attention to two small dark spots on the horizon. Crow's brows knit together, watching the distant spacefaring ships as they fled with the last few slivers of the Freedom Fighters. He could fly after them, but even with just the sparse collection of soldiers, he would be outnumbered and overwhelmed. And he couldn't send a more subtle approach after them. Not yet. Of course, all things considered, perhaps these remaining few would simply abandon the war effort all together. Perhaps the Legion could be so lucky.
But then, Crow didn't like to admit anything to luck.
