Bob "Bulldog" Bobberson the third, esquire, had done many things in his life both prior and after the glassing of his homeworld Leeds at the hands of the Gaul invaders. Yet he would have never guessed he, a former Bretonian noble, would be -invited- to visit Planet Crete of all places. It was a rather interesting system, Omicron Gamma, the view was nice, most things of interest seemed relatively nearby as far as space flight went, shame it was filled to the brim with blood thirsty marauders though. With a chuckle Bob reached into his chest pockets and withdrew one of his last pills the CEO of Cryer had put him on, time for another dose. With a smile the bulky man walked up to the shuttle he was led towards, he didn't mind, in fact he was quite glad for Epirus' existence, it would have been a major pain to land a Longhorn on a planet without even a docking ring, let alone a mooring station, not that he'd point this out to his graceous hosts.
The shuttle flight was uneventful enough albeit somewhat shaky, a routine trip from Epirus to the surface, one of many. Once the shuttle finally landed and the door opened Bob got up from his seat and walked towards the exit, curious to see as to what the Brotherhood had prepared for him.
As the shuttle door hissed open, Bob’s boots met the cracked sandstone of the landing pad with a dull thud. A dry, hot wind swept through, carrying with it the scent of dust and combustion. The compound was a sprawling, chaotic testament to Corsair tackiness and military prowess. Ahead, towering banners emblazoned with the Brotherhood’s cross fluttered violently , their ragged edges snapping in in the blistering hot winds as if defying gravity itself.
To the left of the pad, a set of fortified guard posts overlooked the approach. Bob caught sight of sentries clad in full armor, their dark eyes glinting from beneath the shade of rusted steel visors. Farther up, anti-aircraft emplacements perched precariously on jagged cliffs, barrels swaying lazily in unison as if daring the sky to challenge them.
The villa rose half-hidden against the mountainside, an ancient fortress-like structure of sandstone walls, weathered arches, and sunbleached domes. Its age was undeniable, yet it radiated the stoic strength of something that had endured countless storms, battles, and betrayals. The walled garden surrounding the main compound sharply contrasted the arid environment of the mountains and valleys: pockets of greenery and blooming flora defying the arid landscape with bursts of color.
A handful of exotic animals roamed within spacious enclosures adorned with colorful murals depicting vibrant nature and Corsair Mythology scenes. Shaded areas and small, trickling water features offered respite from the harsh Cretan sun. Around these cheerful scenes, scattered in the corners of the enclosures, the sun-bleached heaps of human bones defiantly reflected the bright daylight back at the sky. One particularly massive black-furred feline lounged lazily in the shade, its piercing gaze locking onto Bob with a chilling blend of curiosity and hunger.
Beyond the gardens, the unmistakable thunders of gunfire echoed from a distant shooting range. The rhythmic bursts were interrupted by harsh Hispanic barks and the occasional metallic clang, as though even the targets here fought back. Somewhere farther off, a Corsair marching band fumbled its way through a bombastic anthem. The melody was brash, completely out of tune, and entirely unapologetic.
The path to the villa was uneven and flanked by low stone walls, pockmarked with age and stray bullet holes. The air itself was heavy with activity: voices barked orders, cargo was hauled back and forth with brute efficiency, and somewhere a scuffle broke out, quickly subdued with the sound of fists meeting face. The compound radiated an energy that was both exhilarating and delirious.
A delegation of Brotherhood warriors emerged from the main compound, making their way down the rugged path toward the shuttle landing zone. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed in the stillness of the arid surroundings. Clad in their distinctive regalia, the warriors casted amused glances at Bob's bewildered expression.
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