Hail, Oh, Acuka, fly over this radioactive wasteland. May your wake scare away the deafening sound of the Geiger counter.*
The prayer springs automatically from your sides the five mechs of the squad. Five years of continuous training and fasting prayers have transformed all of you into a unique fighting team.
Frenah ends with that squawk that seems impossible to come out of her thick lips. "Princess, tomorrow we will finally be Paladins of the crow.
Like your teammates, you take off your helmets while your once delicate and smooth hands show the scars of training.
Damn waste recycler! He puts his fingers to his aquiline nose as he sits on his bunk.
Anything smells better than your socks! Do you have feet or sewers on your boots? Uhhh!" Acuka, if you use your feet, they would kill more heretics than your halberds!"
Laughter spreads over the spartan room. But Frenah's sharp eyes are still locked on yours. Imperturbable and relentless as the nuclear storm outside.
You sigh, unconsciously stroking the old scar across your neck from side to side. "You want to know how the king's sister just squired in this centre in the ass of the wasteland. It's okay. I promised you I'd tell."
