The Light Wolf
Author: Knights of the Square Table (Raion Knight)
Disclaimer: We don't own any of these characters.
Prologue
Bandit Ship Tantalus
Estharian Orbit
Core Worlds Republic
Never had there been before and never will there be again a man with the same conviction to live as Captain Keni of the ship Tantalus. This man faced hardships like no others...
"The Light Wolf"-an un-authorized Biography
Aboard the Tantalus, Captain Ronixis J. "Light Wolf" Keni truly felt as the master of all creation must as he surveyed his tiny place in the universe. He felt the chill of the cold steel beneath his left hand and the raised dashboard of his command console beneath the other. His loyal crew surrounded him; each at their own station, making sure all was right in their cramped quarters. Like his father before him, Captain Ronixis was the most feared pirate in the entire Republic. It was the dream of many Imperial Regulars to be the one who brought down the "Light Wolf" with his blade, but in his 36 years, only one had come close.
Ronixis reached instinctively for the joint at his right knee, where a metal actuator fused myomer muscle with his own flesh and bone. It had been 12 years since he'd lost his leg from the knee down in the attack on Sara Base in the desert of Arasia, in the damned place known as the Zeakdon Desert. The memories came back as he sunk into the plush velvet that lined the bridges command chair.
They should have seen it coming. They'd known the Cleyran Royal Lancers were on the move, but his father had been so sure Sara Base was undetectable-secure beyond any threat of attack. All that his father, the Great Dycedarg, had done was add another squad of guards on the North side of Serpent's Gate. The Cleyran camp was on that side, so attack was coming from there.
But the attack came from the west, where the Emperor's troops were holed up in the Sand Lion pits. Dycedarg had always believed the pits impenetrable, but he had not counted on the Red Mage's ability to charm the Sand Lion. They used the mighty beast of the desert to destroy the base, beyond any trace that it had ever existed. The survivors started a running battle towards the East-but the Lancers were ready. The battle that occurred there on the dunes was one unsurpassed in the history of the planet. 6,000 men died on that field, most of them the bravest men ever to walk a path among the stars. The ones who had been brave enough to stand against the Emperor and his evil Council of Lords.
It was under that sun that Ronixis tasted battle for the first time. And it was there he lost his limb to a bloody Lancer cadet, a fact that added insult to injury. The Cleyran had fought in a way Ronixis had never seen. He seemed to be in one place at one moment; but had disappeared by the time Ronixis' Chaos Blade bit into the sand. The fight seemed never to end, but quickly finished when Ronixis fell, unable to stand because of the wound.
Again he felt the same pain he'd felt lying on the sand; his face turned towards the sun and his skin beginning to blister under it's scorching wrath. It was after nightfall by the time he was pulled into the Tantalus and his wounds healed. His Father's number had been reduced to a handful, and his Father was not among the few that survived.
It would be another half-dozen years until Ronixis learned the name of the warrior who had taken his leg. Freya Crescant.
"Captain, Sir!" Meliadoul's voice came from the navigation quarters behind Ronixis' left flank. "Engine's registering at full capacity, Sir! Commence order to break from Esthar Orbit?"
The rest of the Bridge crew stared at Captain Ronixis J. "Light Wolf" Kenni. His next command, given from what these 'pirates' considered the holy throne of the universe, would affect the flow of time for generations. It was the single greatest decision that could be placed on a man. Once the ship was directed towards Gaia, the Revolution would begin.
Ronixis swiveled his chair to face Meliadoul. "Launch."
Chapter 1
An Enemy of The Warrior-
The Friend of Peace
The Future of Mankind
Those who were present in the Garrison Wing of Alexandria Castle on the day that Captain Mustadio took command of the 7th Alexandrian Knights Royal Combat Team can also claim to have watched the first meeting between the 2 greatest warriors of the Light Wolf Rebellion. In that short, 30-second fight, in which not even 3 attacks were thrown, is actually considered by some historians of the era to be the first blows of the Light Wolf Rebellion.
Brahne's History of the Light Wolf Rebellion, volume VIII
The sharp, gunshot like sound that echoed through the halls of Alexandria Castle caused many of the guards to bring their heads up, ready for an attack. The image that lay before their eyes, floating down the hallway in the golden robes of a Heavenly Knight, was actually a greater shock than an attack would have been. Each time the gold haired stranger took a step, the heels of his steel gauntlets beat out a strong cadence, announcing his presence.
Captain Mustadio glared at the wide-eyed men that he past, even glaring at a child near the kitchen who thought the pages of his story book had come to life and were marching towards him. He seemed to flow through the twists and turns of the palace, his long gold cloak flowing behind him. He moved through the intricate maze of passages towards the small flight of stairs that led into the underground Garrison Wing, were the barracks were. As he rounded the last corner, the only things he saw were a flash of dirty brown...
...And then the ceiling. The archer who had run through him paused in mid step to look back. "Will you watch where your going! Stupid little...CAPTAIN MUSTADIO SIR!!! I'm sorry...er...I...I...didn't know it was you...ugnh...Sir!?
Mustadio leapt to his feet, and in an instant, the archer's toes were dangling three feet off of the ground. Mustadio clenched the man by the lapels of his uniform and shoved him up against the wall. "What's your name, Archer?"
The man just let his mouth roll open. Mustadio back handed across the face, his gauntlet drawing blood. The man's head loolled to the side, and Mustadio shook him again. The Archer opened his eyes and said, "Z...Z...Zalbag, Sir."
"Well Zalbag, go back to the Kitchen, tell the cook you've got an extra 3 weeks of KP, and make sure I don't see your face during those 3 weeks." Mustadio dropped him to the floor, then walked off towards the small passageway that led underground.
As he entered the barracks, one of the more observant officers in the room leapt to his feet and called out, "Atten-tion!"
Very good, Mustadio thought. He'll make a decent paper-pusher somewhere.
The rest of the soldiers weren't so quick until they realized who exactly was standing at the entrance. After they replaced their retina's back in their sockets, they stood stiff as a board and held their shoulders back, their heads high.
They obviously know who I am. God, I'd never thought any unit in this spit and polish, beurocratic military could look this bad. I have to break them here, today, or else they'll never stand a fighting chance out there.
Mustadio began to pace down the row of dirty men, looking at the sorry shape of their quarters. Their beds were unmade, and most of them hadn't shaved in a few days. He began to chuckle as he neared the end of the room, and then swiveled to look all of them face to face. "I was told that I was recalled from the front line's in Terra in order to take command of an elite unit-The 7th Alexandrian Knights RCT.," he began, putting as much of an air of superiority as possible into his speech.
And they had better understand that I am superior to these men, in every way. I am not some filthy commoner.
He began again, this time pacing as he talked. "I believe that either I've stumbled into the wrong barracks, or the rest of you have. You do not look like any soldiers I have met in my life. You have such little decency that you even make the commoners that are your brethren look bad. I personally don't believe any of you are fit to be in this army, because all I see is a bunch of dirty, filthy, undisciplined, clueless-"
"Oh just shut the heck up already." From seemingly thin air, a man's voice cut through the energy of Mustadio's tirade with the effectiveness of a cannon shot. In the darkness of the barracks far corner, just behind Mustadio's left shoulder, those close enough to it could see the dim out line of a man, perched on top of the piles of used junk that collected there. The man spoke bravely, not letting his voice falter or show any weakness. Neither did it show arrogance, but it simply rang with a commanding tone that forced everyone to listen
"As you look around these barracks, you've already made your mind about who these people are. They may not look like much on the parade ground, and they will never be member's of the Captain's Guard, The Knights of Pluto, or any other of those "fashion-show" units, but I'll tell you that any one of us could take 10 of them. And if you looked across the battlefield from your embankments, and you saw the colors of the 7th Alexandrian RCT flying above the enemy camp, the first thought to hit your mind would not be 'Damn, they sure are ugly'. No, it would be, 'Damn, they sure are deadly'."
The monk who was sitting atop a water barrel unfolded himself and jumped off. He stared at Mustadio, and if there had been a man stupid enough to walk between them, that man would have erupted into flames.
Mustadio spoke first, venom punctuating his words. "Whoever you are, I want you gone now. There will be no place for scum like you in my unit." He turned around, walking back towards the entrance. Then he paused, looking over his shoulder.
"Oh, and-" He spun quickly and threw a vicious punch directed at the monk's mid-section.
Mustadio was out of his element in a fist-fight, and it showed as he fist drove through the air and almost into the monk's gut. But the man's left arm flashed out and swept away the attack as it struck back with a vicious right hook. The blow clipped Mustadio on the chin, but had enough power in it to send him sprawling across the room. Twice that day had Mustadio been knocked to the floor by people he couldn't respect less, and this made him furious. He drew his sword as he rose, ready to charge at this impertinent young soldier. He brought his sword parallel to the ground and held it out before him. The attack was made out of rage, so it was clumsy and miss- timed. The monk easily sidestepped away, but he clasped his hands together and swung them into Mustadio's back as he rushed past. Mustadio hit the wall at a sickening speed, and just seemed to collapse in a heap at it's foot.
The monk stared at Mustadio's limp form. "My name is Lynn-Kyle, just so you know what to tell General Steiner when you go to him and say that you beaten by a, what was it? A dirty, filthy, undisciplined, clueless soldier? I'm more than happy to be out of here, especially if staying meant three more years of you."
He turned and stalked through the open door of the barracks, not even bothering to pick up the rest of his things. Behind him, he heard Mustadio gasping for air as his chest began to work again. And as his shadowy figure melted through the frame of the door and into the light beyond, he heard the footsteps of those who followed him
Author: Knights of the Square Table (Raion Knight)
Disclaimer: We don't own any of these characters.
Prologue
Bandit Ship Tantalus
Estharian Orbit
Core Worlds Republic
Never had there been before and never will there be again a man with the same conviction to live as Captain Keni of the ship Tantalus. This man faced hardships like no others...
"The Light Wolf"-an un-authorized Biography
Aboard the Tantalus, Captain Ronixis J. "Light Wolf" Keni truly felt as the master of all creation must as he surveyed his tiny place in the universe. He felt the chill of the cold steel beneath his left hand and the raised dashboard of his command console beneath the other. His loyal crew surrounded him; each at their own station, making sure all was right in their cramped quarters. Like his father before him, Captain Ronixis was the most feared pirate in the entire Republic. It was the dream of many Imperial Regulars to be the one who brought down the "Light Wolf" with his blade, but in his 36 years, only one had come close.
Ronixis reached instinctively for the joint at his right knee, where a metal actuator fused myomer muscle with his own flesh and bone. It had been 12 years since he'd lost his leg from the knee down in the attack on Sara Base in the desert of Arasia, in the damned place known as the Zeakdon Desert. The memories came back as he sunk into the plush velvet that lined the bridges command chair.
They should have seen it coming. They'd known the Cleyran Royal Lancers were on the move, but his father had been so sure Sara Base was undetectable-secure beyond any threat of attack. All that his father, the Great Dycedarg, had done was add another squad of guards on the North side of Serpent's Gate. The Cleyran camp was on that side, so attack was coming from there.
But the attack came from the west, where the Emperor's troops were holed up in the Sand Lion pits. Dycedarg had always believed the pits impenetrable, but he had not counted on the Red Mage's ability to charm the Sand Lion. They used the mighty beast of the desert to destroy the base, beyond any trace that it had ever existed. The survivors started a running battle towards the East-but the Lancers were ready. The battle that occurred there on the dunes was one unsurpassed in the history of the planet. 6,000 men died on that field, most of them the bravest men ever to walk a path among the stars. The ones who had been brave enough to stand against the Emperor and his evil Council of Lords.
It was under that sun that Ronixis tasted battle for the first time. And it was there he lost his limb to a bloody Lancer cadet, a fact that added insult to injury. The Cleyran had fought in a way Ronixis had never seen. He seemed to be in one place at one moment; but had disappeared by the time Ronixis' Chaos Blade bit into the sand. The fight seemed never to end, but quickly finished when Ronixis fell, unable to stand because of the wound.
Again he felt the same pain he'd felt lying on the sand; his face turned towards the sun and his skin beginning to blister under it's scorching wrath. It was after nightfall by the time he was pulled into the Tantalus and his wounds healed. His Father's number had been reduced to a handful, and his Father was not among the few that survived.
It would be another half-dozen years until Ronixis learned the name of the warrior who had taken his leg. Freya Crescant.
"Captain, Sir!" Meliadoul's voice came from the navigation quarters behind Ronixis' left flank. "Engine's registering at full capacity, Sir! Commence order to break from Esthar Orbit?"
The rest of the Bridge crew stared at Captain Ronixis J. "Light Wolf" Kenni. His next command, given from what these 'pirates' considered the holy throne of the universe, would affect the flow of time for generations. It was the single greatest decision that could be placed on a man. Once the ship was directed towards Gaia, the Revolution would begin.
Ronixis swiveled his chair to face Meliadoul. "Launch."
Chapter 1
An Enemy of The Warrior-
The Friend of Peace
The Future of Mankind
Those who were present in the Garrison Wing of Alexandria Castle on the day that Captain Mustadio took command of the 7th Alexandrian Knights Royal Combat Team can also claim to have watched the first meeting between the 2 greatest warriors of the Light Wolf Rebellion. In that short, 30-second fight, in which not even 3 attacks were thrown, is actually considered by some historians of the era to be the first blows of the Light Wolf Rebellion.
Brahne's History of the Light Wolf Rebellion, volume VIII
The sharp, gunshot like sound that echoed through the halls of Alexandria Castle caused many of the guards to bring their heads up, ready for an attack. The image that lay before their eyes, floating down the hallway in the golden robes of a Heavenly Knight, was actually a greater shock than an attack would have been. Each time the gold haired stranger took a step, the heels of his steel gauntlets beat out a strong cadence, announcing his presence.
Captain Mustadio glared at the wide-eyed men that he past, even glaring at a child near the kitchen who thought the pages of his story book had come to life and were marching towards him. He seemed to flow through the twists and turns of the palace, his long gold cloak flowing behind him. He moved through the intricate maze of passages towards the small flight of stairs that led into the underground Garrison Wing, were the barracks were. As he rounded the last corner, the only things he saw were a flash of dirty brown...
...And then the ceiling. The archer who had run through him paused in mid step to look back. "Will you watch where your going! Stupid little...CAPTAIN MUSTADIO SIR!!! I'm sorry...er...I...I...didn't know it was you...ugnh...Sir!?
Mustadio leapt to his feet, and in an instant, the archer's toes were dangling three feet off of the ground. Mustadio clenched the man by the lapels of his uniform and shoved him up against the wall. "What's your name, Archer?"
The man just let his mouth roll open. Mustadio back handed across the face, his gauntlet drawing blood. The man's head loolled to the side, and Mustadio shook him again. The Archer opened his eyes and said, "Z...Z...Zalbag, Sir."
"Well Zalbag, go back to the Kitchen, tell the cook you've got an extra 3 weeks of KP, and make sure I don't see your face during those 3 weeks." Mustadio dropped him to the floor, then walked off towards the small passageway that led underground.
As he entered the barracks, one of the more observant officers in the room leapt to his feet and called out, "Atten-tion!"
Very good, Mustadio thought. He'll make a decent paper-pusher somewhere.
The rest of the soldiers weren't so quick until they realized who exactly was standing at the entrance. After they replaced their retina's back in their sockets, they stood stiff as a board and held their shoulders back, their heads high.
They obviously know who I am. God, I'd never thought any unit in this spit and polish, beurocratic military could look this bad. I have to break them here, today, or else they'll never stand a fighting chance out there.
Mustadio began to pace down the row of dirty men, looking at the sorry shape of their quarters. Their beds were unmade, and most of them hadn't shaved in a few days. He began to chuckle as he neared the end of the room, and then swiveled to look all of them face to face. "I was told that I was recalled from the front line's in Terra in order to take command of an elite unit-The 7th Alexandrian Knights RCT.," he began, putting as much of an air of superiority as possible into his speech.
And they had better understand that I am superior to these men, in every way. I am not some filthy commoner.
He began again, this time pacing as he talked. "I believe that either I've stumbled into the wrong barracks, or the rest of you have. You do not look like any soldiers I have met in my life. You have such little decency that you even make the commoners that are your brethren look bad. I personally don't believe any of you are fit to be in this army, because all I see is a bunch of dirty, filthy, undisciplined, clueless-"
"Oh just shut the heck up already." From seemingly thin air, a man's voice cut through the energy of Mustadio's tirade with the effectiveness of a cannon shot. In the darkness of the barracks far corner, just behind Mustadio's left shoulder, those close enough to it could see the dim out line of a man, perched on top of the piles of used junk that collected there. The man spoke bravely, not letting his voice falter or show any weakness. Neither did it show arrogance, but it simply rang with a commanding tone that forced everyone to listen
"As you look around these barracks, you've already made your mind about who these people are. They may not look like much on the parade ground, and they will never be member's of the Captain's Guard, The Knights of Pluto, or any other of those "fashion-show" units, but I'll tell you that any one of us could take 10 of them. And if you looked across the battlefield from your embankments, and you saw the colors of the 7th Alexandrian RCT flying above the enemy camp, the first thought to hit your mind would not be 'Damn, they sure are ugly'. No, it would be, 'Damn, they sure are deadly'."
The monk who was sitting atop a water barrel unfolded himself and jumped off. He stared at Mustadio, and if there had been a man stupid enough to walk between them, that man would have erupted into flames.
Mustadio spoke first, venom punctuating his words. "Whoever you are, I want you gone now. There will be no place for scum like you in my unit." He turned around, walking back towards the entrance. Then he paused, looking over his shoulder.
"Oh, and-" He spun quickly and threw a vicious punch directed at the monk's mid-section.
Mustadio was out of his element in a fist-fight, and it showed as he fist drove through the air and almost into the monk's gut. But the man's left arm flashed out and swept away the attack as it struck back with a vicious right hook. The blow clipped Mustadio on the chin, but had enough power in it to send him sprawling across the room. Twice that day had Mustadio been knocked to the floor by people he couldn't respect less, and this made him furious. He drew his sword as he rose, ready to charge at this impertinent young soldier. He brought his sword parallel to the ground and held it out before him. The attack was made out of rage, so it was clumsy and miss- timed. The monk easily sidestepped away, but he clasped his hands together and swung them into Mustadio's back as he rushed past. Mustadio hit the wall at a sickening speed, and just seemed to collapse in a heap at it's foot.
The monk stared at Mustadio's limp form. "My name is Lynn-Kyle, just so you know what to tell General Steiner when you go to him and say that you beaten by a, what was it? A dirty, filthy, undisciplined, clueless soldier? I'm more than happy to be out of here, especially if staying meant three more years of you."
He turned and stalked through the open door of the barracks, not even bothering to pick up the rest of his things. Behind him, he heard Mustadio gasping for air as his chest began to work again. And as his shadowy figure melted through the frame of the door and into the light beyond, he heard the footsteps of those who followed him