Sebastian Wrath

[wrathkin]

//Still on the backstory.
//Just slightly edited to what Seb became, as opposed to what I planned him to be
//Next post will probably be brand new un-retrofitted! =)


Diamond mining station, Rheinland, 814 A.S.
The interior of the bar was dark, and the patrons seemed to be interested in only one thing - drinking.

Well, I guess if I spend my life mining diamonds for a tuppence I'd be trying to forget about it as well.

He made his way to the bar and, after failing to order a stout, settled for a beer and retired to a small table in the rear.

As he brought up the latest CNS headlines on his terminal, a two men approached.

"You ze prophet, eh?"

Sebastian looked up at the men. Although he was well trained from a lifetime of heavy work, those guys probably outweighed
him by ten pounds each.

"I claim to be no prophet - however I do speak of the divine from time to time, when asked."

The men looked at each other, and Seb catched a glance at a smaller man, clothed just a bit too well for this place.
Ah, so I've been targeted by the thought police, have I?

"You been talking about your filthy gods on this station, eh? We don't want your gods. We want you gone."

One of the men put his closed fist on the table, and leaned over.

"We've had your type here before, and you all are the same. Come here and try to bring good Rheinlanders away from ze
Gottkanzler"

Sebastian looked them over, and felt the void and chaos coarse through him, as it always did when he approahed a conflict, an Edge.
He smiled softly "I'm hardly the same as those others... you see one thing is that your Chancellor may very well be a god although I
don't really think so " - he raised his left hand in a gesture to preempt their answer - " and the other thing that makes me
different is that I have taken no wows, and I cheat."

A whining noise was heard has the neurogun in his right hand went to full auto under the table, hitting both men in the groin.
As they gasped and then silently folded over and struck the floor, nervous systems overloaded, he rose with the gun in his
hand pointed to the floor, and adressed the well-dressed man in the background.

"And you, my good sir, better take care of your goons when they wake up. They may be in considerable pain."

The man hesitated, and as he looked into Sebastian's eyes, black irises giving them a feel of void, his sholders slumped and
he stepped out of the way.

With that, he stepped out of the bar and disappeared into the streets.

---

John Johnson - Master of Synth.Foods-Convoy|049
Hans Adler - Synth Foods escort wing

Sebastian Wrath - Zoner in a Temporary Autonomous Zone ([TAZ]Punchin'Seb)