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Lyris Von Wulfhart
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[i]Mechwarrior: Cadet Lyris von Wulfhart, LCAF - GRF-1S[/i]
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The noon sun of Steelton was high in the sky as Wulfhart's Lance received orders that suddenly and unexpectedly changed their planned patrol route. The unexpectedness of it combined with the less than ideal comms situation had made it a little difficult to make out Captain Hart's orders. However, from the sounds of it, long-range sensors had picked up something strange, and it was tasked to their lance to investigate with the Star Guard tech crew. The prospect of something new to break up the tedium of routine alone had gotten Lyris admittedly a little excited. A part of her hoped that it was the prelude to a pirate raid. As doubtful as that might be with how well defended the world was for just such occasions.

 She didn't think of herself as being battle hungry, as some might assume, as merely being pragmatic. It would be frustrating for almost anyone to train for years in routine drills, tactics, piloting, and conflict- but never get a chance to test oneself in the real thing, even if it was against vastly outgunned marauders. Just the possibility for some real excitement gave Lyris a sudden bit of adrenaline rush. She shook her head- as much as the slightly bulky neurohelmet she wore would allow- and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Jumping to conclusions was unbecoming and had her academy tutors been here they might have scolded her for her apparent lack of discipline. 

Lyris watched the mechwarriors in front of her engage their motive systems and advance. She quickly followed suit as hydraulic tendons flexed. Gears whirred to speed. Spumes of smoke and incense boiled from exhaust vents around her armored torsos carapaces. Still drill or false alarm she truly did enjoy every moment she was in her cockpit. The heavy footfalls of her steed that shook the ground granting her a sense of scale and power. The roar of her engines not unlike the growl of a beast waiting to be unleashed. The mere act of piloting a battlemech made one feel invincible. It was a feeling she might never shake all the days of her life. 

The captain had ordered her to join a select few others on overwatch duty, and Lyris obeyed swiftly, feeding power to her servomotors and feeling acceleration as her steed strode forward.  

"Roger that, making trails," she responded calmly, hoping her tone hide he earlier excitement.  

Three long strides and Lyris willed her jet engines online through her neural feed, an explosion of fire sprung to life near the back legs of her steeds feet and shot her skyward. For a brief moment, she felt as though she was flying, albeit on wings of fiery flame rather than the more mundane ones of a bird of prey. She touched down on a large rocky ledged platform that overlooked the rest of the formation. Her servomotors whined as her Griffins legs bent to absorb the impact of the landing. From here, Lyris submerged herself into the sensor network, as it extended over the broad, barren terrain. The world of Steelton seemed a grim and lifeless place to her eyes. It's hard, cracked earth and dust appearing brown and dead in all directions with only the rare sprinkling of vegetation here and there. At least it was not a sandy desert she thought. Lyris had been raised on the small but brutal world of Asaheim, a place of seemingly endless winter, snow, and spectacular lightning storms. 

It was a world that held a timeless beauty about it that Steelton utterly lacked in comparison. The world here was also much hotter than what she was used to, even inside her comparatively cramped cockpit she could almost feel the heat outside. The constant reminder of the weather had forced her always to be concerned with the state of her mech. She supposed that was the genius behind deploying them to this harsh biome. By its very nature, they were forced to become ever mindful of their heat management. That was not a concern for her now; the readings were all green at the moment though it would take awhile for her jump jets to cool off. They had not built up much heat given their relatively short use. 

Lyris had been noted to be among the lances best pilots regarding quick reflexes, but her often reckless maneuvers meant she was among the worse when it came to heat management. That and tightening up her fire salvos during and after jumps were the foremost concerns regarding what remained of her training. She supposed such matters would have to wait for another day given their current assignment. She kept her stride as she turned her focus entirely to the horizon, eyes open for any threats despite the annoying heat.  Her eyes flicked to the data symbol for Johns mech- who she had nicknamed 'Mouse'. The little kurz didn't look it, but he seemed to hold up the best when it came to the heat. He almost never exited his mech after a long training session with much more than a little sweat on his brow. How'd he manage it? 


"Verdammte hitze..." she whispered under her breath.
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