The Captain chuckles, sipping at his wine. "So, Cindis. I noticed after the axe you've started favoring the electrostaff you got on the Wheel. Do they teach all kinds of combat on Phatrong, or did you pick that up on your travels?"

Cindis sat for a moment, before downing all the remaining wine in his glass as though it were nothing more than water. "My father taught me. He always said violence was a last resort. He didn't want me to become a Clovoc warrior. But one day when I was young we were walking the streets of a larger city, I don't remember why. I do remember looking into an alleyway and seeing a young boy being attacked by a group of larger ones. I ran to help him, and I took the beating in his place when he ran away. My father did nothing to stop it. But the next day he started teaching me how to fight, with any and every weapon he could fashion from our farm tools."

The Captain nods, his eyes far away. "I see. He sounds like a good man."
"Why did you leave home?" He asks, "Aren't you a chief?"

"We all do our part to support the Clovoc. I could sit around organizing things all day, but that wouldn't set a good example. Not to mention my ascention wasn't very widely supported." As Cindis answers he looks a bit more relaxed again.

...


"So, Cindis," Ferrum says, leaning forward to refill his glass. "Why wasn't your clan on board with you becoming Chief?"

Cindis answers, "That my friend, is a long story, but the short of it is the previous leader held a tournament on his death bed to choose his successor. He chose me for some reason. I had just joined the Clovoc a week before, so safe to say most of the higher ranking members weren't happy with the decision."

"I see, so you kind of jumped the gun?" He sips at the wine, sighing in satisfaction. "Don't you think heading out into the galaxy right after a controversial event is like running away?"

Hegron drops the scissors he’s tinkering with on to the metallic floor, accidentally, but in response to the Captain’s comments ”Hey now, there’s nothin’ wrong with running away.”

In response, a long pause. Then, Captain Ferrum chuckles. "I'll drink to that." He holds his wineglass up in a tall salute, and knocks it back, drinking the newly-refilled glass in full.

Cindis stands up. He refills his glass, and immediately downs it. Sitting the emptied glass down onto the table he looks at the others. "I think I'm done for the night. Excuse me." He bows low before heading to his room.

Strength. Honor.

[15] Dutybound to save the galaxy one day. Baby steps.

The five rules of war - What makes a warrior.

The Weapon belongs to who best wields it.

Emotions are the true enemy of any battle, for they are only a distraction.

Only those who are of the weakest heart, abandon their ideals when they are lost.

Honor is the way of the warrior. A warrior without honor is not a warrior, but a coward.

Never underestimate your opponent. Never hold back.

Cindis stands at 6'6" tall. He has faintly green tinted skin. He wears red and black clothing. He wears black fingerless gloves. He has cloth wrapped across his mouth and nose, limiting his oxegen flow so that he may breath normally. The other end of the cloth is cast behind him like a scarf or half-cape. His eyes are a piercing scarlet with horizontal pupils. He wears a pair of Scanner Goggles atop his forehead. When he lowers them over his eyes, he can see in low-light conditions. He wears a simple yet deceptively thick, dusty shirt and trousers. Atop his shirt rests a dusty cowl. *Dusty refers to the color not the state.*