!!66F0+1Pe8+6 02/20/12(Mon)05:12 No.18024932|
With the action amongst the crew of the halberd winding down, Otso watched with tired eyes. When he had taken command of this vessel, he had imagined it would not matter how inexperienced a commander he was, that the details would sort themselves out in a flurry of blood and adrenaline. As soon as his vengeful high wore off, however, he couldn't help but feel foolish. Here he was, a wild man of the North shouting orders with no real idea what he was doing, driving men into battle to feed a vengeance they shared no part in. However, hearing the reports over the radio of even the midians grudgingly commending his brother's work, he couldn't tell whether to grieve or beam with pride.
Slumping against the cold, forbidding metal of the cabin's wall, he found himself sliding to the ground. Within moments, the true pilot of this ship came to his side, eyes filled with more concern than he deserved. "Sir, are you alright?" Shaking his head, he responded, "I'll be fine, Corporal," He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I just need a moment."
"This war is over, the one that took so many of my brothers - Tiren, Vilkas, Ulfur, Kurt, Lendur - and they aren't alone in the ranks of the dead." He paused in contemplation, until for a moment, he expressed a grim satisfaction. "But you know what? I'm alive. And I don't know about you, but I've still got a life to spend in the service of my brother in spirit, our emperor." At this, he stood forcefully, his wolf-skin cloak fluttering with the sudden movement. He moved to the window, and ordered over his shoulder. "Get us home, Corporal. We can best honor the dead by continuing to fight for our lives."