The marching orders had been cryptic but simple. Arn had merely nodded and gotten his ruck sack ready unlike the groans of complaint from the others in his squad. The battle mage was finished before the other had even reached for their own gear. He did not have much in the ways of possessions. Indeed, almost all he owned was gear issued to him by the military. The only things that had ever meant anything to him were already on his person. On his neck was the medallion which had belonged to his mother. It was made of cheap metal and it had melted into a charred twisted version of its original self, much like his own mother when she died. Some may confuse it for abstract art, other would say that it was a trophy from the many victims of the Hellspawn’s flames. Few would know that it was the only thing he had of his mother. The other items were strapped to his midsection. A set of ebony looking Daisho. These, unlike his medallion, reminded him of the temperance of mind and body. They had been a gift from his master and commander. The only man to have been able to get Arn to listen and the one who taught him about how to tamper the fire rolling inside him. His master taught him that war is no place for anger. Just as the blade does not feel so must the man. However, it is also the man who must decide who falls before his blade. It is here that the true essence of the warrior lies. Any man can kill another. Only a warrior knows that the life he takes is the necessary one. This would prevent any future self doubt and self punishment in deciding if what he did was right, just or honorable. Arn shouldered his pack putting the straps through the armholes of his Flak armor. He had been on many raids and missions so certain habits were second nature to him. The battle mage set it down at their assigned spot. It would stay there, undisturbed, until it was time to load the ships and begin the mission. They would drop from the sky. His squad was nicknamed “The Shooting Stars”. However, the name had nothing to do with something as simple a wishing astral body. Indeed, many in the squad never stayed long. For just like their nickname, they soon burned up. The squad was made up mainly of lower ranked soldiers which were “Expendable”. The battle mage cared nothing for these semantics. His job was to fall from the sky and unleash hell while the more prestigious members of the military came in and cleaned up the rabble to earn all the glory. He cared little for the politics of rank and station. He was approaching their designated gear area to drop off his battle gear. This would be the place his squad would meet up at and receive their orders as they donned gear. He was the first one there which meant that his red tinted, samurai styled flak armor would mark the area the squad would utilize. As he approached, he noticed two men, knights by the look of them, talking. He felt no need to approach them as he was not a socially inclined person but a name caught his ear. [i]Dalmer [/i] He had heard the name before. Apparently, this knight was not like the others. Indeed they share very much the same status of low birth. However, apparently, this foot man turned knight had risen through the ranks. Arn was not sure if he was impressed or indifferent but he took a bit longer than necessary to drop of his gear. Just because he did not engage in politics did not mean he was not aware of them. He was no self proclaimed savior of those of low birth but he could not stand people utilizing their status to look down and harass others. He straightened up when the obvious noble addressed the other knight with derision. An annoyed looked crossed Arn’s face as he looked in the direction of the two men who could not be more than 20 or so feet from him. the Battle mage did not want to be caught off guard in the event the lower ranked knight all of a sudden sprang on his superior. Arn took a step back and raised his hands. He reached into the Aether. His eyes saw the the hidden bands that held the broken world together. He felt a buzz as his own soul connected in harmony to Gia. He felt that familiar feeling of falling through the air as his connection to Gia grew stronger. I his mind he pictured the very air atoms in front of him. If needed, he would push the strings in front of him. The result would be a blast of air he would aim at Leo. Arn did not know what was going on but he did not want either of the knights to start something that would put the rest of the Army on edge an eve before the actual battle. He would not harm anyone but if needed he would try to talk them down.