They call him Rollor

[Rollor]

No one knew his real name. He liked it that way. His name was something of an enigma which he thought suited him almost perfectly. He wasnt much to look at as there was almost nothing distinct about him. His slight frame gave no hints as to his physical strength, and his face lent almost no clues to the keen mind he possessed. except for his eyes, behind those quiet intent blue eyes one could see the flame of inspiration and an overall love of what he did.

Not much was known of this man's past least of which why this bar on the border of Liberty and Bretonia space held such a special place in his heart. He was a pilot, and a damned good one too, for the Liberty Armed forces. Yet he was not born there. His voice instantly gave that away with the slightest hint of a Bretonian accent that belied his noble upbringing. This bar was the closest he had been to home in almost 15 years.

When the news came that Bretonia and Kusari were going to war he began to be torn between his loyalty to his new home in Liberty and his feelings for his old home on Leeds. Leeds was one of the first systems in the path of the advancing Kusari forces and that was all of the incentive he needed.

This would be the last time he came to this bar as a member of the Liberty Armed Forces. Rollor was going home to fight for queen and country as cliche as that may sound. The BAF would be happy to have him, they just didn't know it yet.