Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20191108235505/@comment-33521582-20191109165553

The Lok'hert convoy had reached Dun Gallin three days prior, and the Cioragh mountain men had taken well to the concrete buttresses and reinforced arches of the fortress. Kuzvert, a scion of the Lak'lan, had spent these days in prayer and contemplation of the nature of the divine Duw Rhyfelwr. This was not to seek guidance or reassurance, the men from the Cloven Mountains know honor and discipline before they know to walk, it was his duty, carried in his blood, and borne upon the myriad white scars that spidered across his tanned skin. As was not uncommon among the Lok'hert, he had rolled up the sleeves of his BDU, disregarding the damp cold, to reveal as much of his life tapestry as possible. To conceal it would be tantamount to deception and, thus, dishonor.

He was intrigued by his orders. Even in the PDF, the clansmen of Lok'hert had remained together, and for good reason. Peerless frontline troops, the Lok'hert worked best when supported by their own; a fierce, iron-clad fist. He stopped by their Chimera, the Cragrunner, now silent and pristine after the rituals of purification, to make one last check before heading out to report to the commanding officer. As he made his way through the crowd, he tightened the straps on his shotgun holster, pulling the well-worn weapon closer to him to prevent discharge. It's surface was covered with delicate etchings, as intricate as the ones on his own skin if much less sacred, and whitened bone showed on the grip, a trophy of battles past.

Stepping through the office's open threshold, his dark eyes briskly surveyed the troopers standing at attention, before turning to a point slightly left of the waiting officer's head, at which point he called out, "Private First Class Kuzvert Lak'lan Lok'hert, of the 31st Sennach Armored Assault Battalion, reporting as ordered, Commander!".