[sansanjuan]

The thick air breathers stir below. Bound to the earth they plod like deformed Wingless. They don't look up. Pity. Soon the rarified air of Caelum will stir and the shadow my my Icesword will fall on their shoulders.

Eres - Storm General 1st Army (The Gathering of the Cleaning)




Dear Mom,

"Join the Wingless" you said. "Make a name for yourself in the 'Cleansing'. It will toughen you up. The ladies like a war scar." Ha! Even the Wingless don't take cripples... so they hand me a pitchfork and prod. Now I'm freezing and knee deep in Mammoth s*h*i*t. I asked what happened to the last handler. The Iceclad smiled and told me to "check between Scrot's toes". Scrot, the biggest meanest beast of the lot... hates me already. The campaign rolls tomorrow. Tell Kes he can have anything he finds in my room.

Love Kern