((A little IC background on the Red Wings. There are IC many members, as any intelligence agency would have. For the size of Ul'dah and Thanalan as a whole you could have hundreds of minor operatives. Each person who is a member of this FC is IC a head of a sub unit within the organization. I am the head of them all, Kahn'a is second and head of assassinations, Askier leads the engineers of the group, Siha is head of research, and so on. So the actual players rp as the management of the Unit, that said means that there are many others that are basically rp-convenient npcs who are used as needed. (except Thrum and Kikiwi, those are super-awesome npcs that carry the whole fc lol). This is the story of one such operative, and how the death of even this one rather insignificant soldier effects his fellow Red Wings. Because there is no insignificant Red Wing, we are as a family, for nothing makes you close like war.))
Erik sits at his desk within the RWHQ, the quill broken in his hand. The small Mammet on his stool hops down and brings his Captain another feather. Erik nods, forcing a smile. He had been warned when he was given his first command so long ago, the worst part of command was condolence. He hated it more so because he was always forced to lie. The nature of the Wings meant that if a soldier fell, none would ever know why. Always with great sacrifice did they fall, but always he was forced to cheapen their death to their families. He died by slipping into a river as he helped dam it. She died from an illness while delivering food to a hunger struck settlement. Never the truth, never that he stopped a Imperial spy from escaping with secrets that would have been doom for Ul'dah. Never that she died from poison, a trap set and sprung as she rescued four of her fellow Wings escaping from a warzone that does not exist.
Sighing he drained his cup in one draw, he drank so much more now he thought. Placing pen to paper he began...
Erik took another drink, his little mechanical friend filling his glass. Angered he erased the last sentence and continued....
Setting and sealing the letter, Erik stood and walked to his chamber. Dressing in his freshest uniform he had. Setting even the hat he never wore he returned to the front office and took the letter. Exiting the building he motions to the stables as his Chocobo emerged, already dressed in full regalia. Mounting the Roursey he turned the bird and mooved to the stool near the stables as Montblanc emerged from the building as well, flag posted to his back. Once on, they rode for the west.
Erik sits at his desk within the RWHQ, the quill broken in his hand. The small Mammet on his stool hops down and brings his Captain another feather. Erik nods, forcing a smile. He had been warned when he was given his first command so long ago, the worst part of command was condolence. He hated it more so because he was always forced to lie. The nature of the Wings meant that if a soldier fell, none would ever know why. Always with great sacrifice did they fall, but always he was forced to cheapen their death to their families. He died by slipping into a river as he helped dam it. She died from an illness while delivering food to a hunger struck settlement. Never the truth, never that he stopped a Imperial spy from escaping with secrets that would have been doom for Ul'dah. Never that she died from poison, a trap set and sprung as she rescued four of her fellow Wings escaping from a warzone that does not exist.
Sighing he drained his cup in one draw, he drank so much more now he thought. Placing pen to paper he began...
Quote:To Mistress Lalia Grey,
It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter to you. I must inform you that your son, Marcus, has died in the service of Thanalan and Her Majesty, Sultana Nanamo Ul Namo.
On the Forth Sun of the Seventh Moon, Marcus was lost to us while seeing to people less fortunate in Camp Bluefog. While seeking a Garlean agent who had infiltrated the camp and had begun to saba.....
Erik took another drink, his little mechanical friend filling his glass. Angered he erased the last sentence and continued....
Quote:While unloading supplies into the store houses, a terrible accident occurred. As another aid worker was working Marcus noticed a loose beam and rushed to save his fellow soldier. Pushing him to safety, Marcus was struck by the beam. He died instantly and I assure you he did not suffer. Though I know it to be little consolation, your son died a hero, and I am honored to have known him.
We of the Red Wings were blessed to have called Marcus our brother, and his loss will be with us always. I extend to you my hand and offer anything you may need. Nothing I do can ever return Marcus to you, but I will strive to honor his memory by doing whatever I can to help you.
Ser Eirikir Mynhier, FLC
The Red Wings
Immortal Flames
Setting and sealing the letter, Erik stood and walked to his chamber. Dressing in his freshest uniform he had. Setting even the hat he never wore he returned to the front office and took the letter. Exiting the building he motions to the stables as his Chocobo emerged, already dressed in full regalia. Mounting the Roursey he turned the bird and mooved to the stool near the stables as Montblanc emerged from the building as well, flag posted to his back. Once on, they rode for the west.
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