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About Mythos

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  • Birthday 11/21/1984


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  1. Mythos


    Mythos had long grew accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the Alliance Capital Ship, the Misericordia, the ship having been his home for many battles since his resurgence from the Outer Rim and back to Active Duty as a Marshall. But now he stood as an Officer of the Alliance, not just representing the ideals of the Old Republic, but the Imperial Remnant as well. Standing before him were his men, a mixture of both Imperial and Republic Soldiers, many veterans of wars he himself had not faced and some he had. They knew of his history as much as he knew of theirs, and a aura of respect hung in the air from both sides. It was truly a unity he had built from the scars of old. He said not a word, but instead bowed his head as his ears folded, letting the men of SaberCat that the time had come as he placed his classic helm upon his own face, Jibbs echoing the move out. "Misericordia, SaberCat is ready to deploy. Permission to launch." Mythos echoed across his comm, his grizzled voice echoing the ache to prove himself worthy once again. Once permission was given, the soil of Centerpoint would once again be under Alliance protection.
  2. Rising, Mythos heard and heeded her words with respect, but felt no need for them. Praise was not what he sought, nor did he envision himself a hero. His ears furrowed back at the mere mention of it and he grimaced behind his mask as a shiver went up his spine and made his fur ruffle. Removing his mask that revealed the scars that laid beneath, he spoke, his voice coarse and rigged from the old wound across his throat. "There is no need for praise, Lady Empress. I am merely a citizen of the Alliance, just as any other soldier placing his life on the line to protect it's freedoms and defend it from invasions." His gaze shifted toward the Mandalorian. "I'm afraid I've not had the pleasure, though I've faced many Mandalorians in battle when I liberated Hanna City from their clutches. Honorable and deadly, most of them proved to be. A true testament to those who call themselves warriors. Not like the Sith I faced." As the little Empress offered passage, Mythos nodded. "I heard of the Sith's defeat at Corellia. Let us finish it then." Mythos placed his mask back onto his face, motioning Rai to follow. Outside the room waited Sergeant Major Jibbs. Jibbs saluted the Shistavanian as Rai departed, and soon Mythos and Jibbs made their way with Raven, with the First Light Infantry Battalion in tow. Truly, Corellia was blessed this day.
  3. MoonCall Model: Alliance-Class Star Destroyer Class: Battlecruiser/Capital Ship/Star Destroyer Length: 1500 Meters Engine Units: Main(2), Secondary(4) Hyperdrive Rating: 0.75 Crew: 6,500 Troops: 4,000(Troops) Armament: *Heavy Turbolaser Batteries(10) *Medium Turbolaser Batteries(10) *Heavy Ion Cannon Batteries(8) *Tractor Beam Projector Batteries(6) *Proton Torpedo Launcher Batteries(10) *Gravity Mines Compliments *Fighters(48) *Bombers(12) *Shuttles(6) Cargo Capacity: 12,000 Tons Consumables: 4 Years Description: Similar in design between the Gladiator Class Star Destroyer and the Imperius Class Star Destroyer, the Alliance Class Star Destroyer is the response to the consistent used of the Imperial Class Star Destroyer Variant II. History: In response to the constant Imperial War Machine, the shipyards at Nar Shadaa have rolled out the first Alliance Class Star Destroyer, codenamed 'MoonCall', to aid in the fight against the Sith. Using designs from the Gladiator Class and Imperius Class of Star Destroyers, the Nar Shadaa Shipyards aimed to design a more productive class of ships capable of not only defending on the front lines, but produce ships capable of troop distribution. With the recent promotion of Marshal Mythos Von-Howlster, the Rebel Alliance saw an opportunity to test it's capabilities.
  4. Commanding Officers Sergeant Major Lee-Roy Jibbs Enlisted Name: Lee-Roy Jibbs Aliases: Lee or Lee-Roy Homeworld: Coruscant Species: Miraluka Age: 28 Height: 6'5 Weight: 250lbs Hair: Black Skin: Black Eyes: N/A Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Faction Rank: Sergeant Major Battalion: SaberCat Major Hanz Vickensythe Enlisted Name: Hanz Vickensythe Aliases: Hanz or Tanz Homeworld: Panatha Species: Epicathix Age: 25 Height: 5'6 Weight: 150lbs Hair: Black Skin: Bronze Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Faction Rank: Major Battalion: ThunderShmyr Major Van Helios Enlisted Name: Van Helios Aliases: Leo Homeworld: Cathar Species: Cathar Age: 26 Height: 6'3 Weight: 200lbs Fur: Golden Skin: N/A Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Alignment: lawful Faction Rank: Major Battalion: Shadowbrand Sergeant Major Timothy Halo Enlisted Name: Timothy Halo Aliases: Timmy Homeworld: Corellia Species: Human Age: 32 Height: 5'10 Weight: 175lbs Hair: Dirty Blonde Skin: White Eyes: Blue Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Faction Rank: Sergeant Major Battalion: Brimstone Sergeant Major Christopher Korne Enlisted Name: Christopher Korne Aliases: Fangs Homeworld: Anzat Species: Anzati Age: 332 Height: 6'0 Weight: 185lbs Hair: Black Skin: Grey Eyes: Red Sex: Male Alignment: Lawful Faction Rank: Sergeant Major Battalion: Basilisk
  5. 2nd Heavy Infantry Brigade Commander: Colonel Mythos Von-Howlster NCO: Lieutenant Colonel Rai-Lin 1st Light Infantry Battalion Callsign: SaberCat CO: Sergeant Major Lee-Roy Jibbs 2nd Mechanized Infantry Battalion Callsign: ThunderShmyr CO: Major Hanz Vickensythe 3rd Mechanized Infantry Battalion Callsign: ShadowBrand CO: Major Van Helios 4th Mechanized Artillery Battlion Callsign: Brimstone CO: Sergeant Major Timothy Halo 5th Engineer Regiment Callsign: Basilisk CO: Sergeant Major Christopher Korne Creed/Motto "We are the Light in the Dark, the Beacons that standfast against the Shores of Evil, our Shield that of Defense and Truth and our Fight is that of Honor and Strength. We are the Soldiers of the MoonCall Brigade." MoonCall The Alliance Class Star Destroyer, codenamed 'MoonCall', is a feit of engineering extraordinare. Granted to Colonel Mythos Von-Howlster after his promotion in order to test it's capabilities, it has become the beacon of hope and justice for the Rebel Alliance in their fight against the Sith and their Empire. As such, Mythos named his command after the ship and considered it as their base of operations. Standard Issue Gear Armor - Modified Katarn Class Commando Armor, vaccum sealed armorweave, magnetic boots, rebreather, and personal shields. Weapons - DH-17 Blaster Rifles, DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistols, and Lightfoils
  6. Many weeks had passed since Mythos made his initial return to duty, the Shistavanian Marshal awarded the Rank of Colonel by the higher ups for his work at Chandrila among other things. But for the overgrown hound, his return was just as he expected, a long and grueling climb upon the ladder of respect awaiting him. After his mental break at the hands of the Sith Magics at Dark Sun, the men were left wondering about his capacity for leadership, and above all, his capacity of resolve. Was he truly fit to lead? Could he lead? Or was he past his prime, needing to be left out in the cold to whither and pass, allowing the younger generation to rise. These were questions he quite often asked himself as he trained his men and began his transition back into the life of a soldier. And yet one stood apart from the rest, an Echani Lieutenant Colonel by the name of Rai-Lin, five years his Junior, whom had made the Elder feel more welcomed than the whispers and gossip of the men that often swept the barracks. Mythos sat in his Office when Rai-Lin made his approach, the grizzled Echani laying down the datapad with the Orders. Mythos grimaced, the long unwanted day of returning to battle now at hand against the very same forces that nearly destroyed him. Mandalorians were one thing, a culture to be respected for their honor and dignity. But the Sith were a whole other breed, chaotic and unpredictable, devious and foul. He would be the first to voice his displeasure in facing them again, but Orders were Orders, and Mythos would never disobey. Grabbing his gear, Mythos and Rai-Lin made their departure with Orders to ready the troops passed down the chain of command. It was time for his legions to prepare. It wouldn't take long for the masked Shistavanian and the grizzled Echani to make their approach at the Presidium, the echos of their physical and mental scars evident even in the air, seasoned vets true and cold. Mythos eyes met the small Empress he had met once before, and out of respect, he knelt even if his form still towered over her own, Rai following suite. "My Lady."
  7. Mythos stood upon the precipice of his freedom, the Shistavanen looking over his shoulder toward the mental ward he had spent the several last months confined within after his break at Chandrila. The Imperial Knight that had guided him out of the darkness stood beside him, a smile gracing his face as he turned to look up upon the scarred face he aided. And all Mythos could do was stare down upon the ground. "Is everything alright, Mythos?" He questioned sincerely, placing a friendly hand upon the Shistavanen's armored shoulder, the metallic limb flexing out of reflex against the subtle touch. Mythos' ears recoiled. "You've come a long way my friend. The nightmares and visions are long gone." "I know..." Mythos replied, his ears perking up as he adorned his durasteel visage again, his bipedal legs shifting across the threshold and into the light of Nar Shadaa's looming sun across Nal Hutta's atmosphere. "But it still broke me. I still fell to the power of that Sith. I'm not even sure if my men can respect me after such an event, let alone trust me to lead them again after being away so long." "Trust in yourself and in your men." The Knight spoke softly with understanding, his gaze shifted forward with full knowledge of Mythos' psyche and recovery as the two stared at a potential new horizon for Mythos. Time heals all wounds, but the ones that cut the deepest are never the visible ones. "The rest will follow in time." Mythos remained silent for a moment, then treaded away in thought. So much had happened, and even now, it was hard for the Shistavanen to wrap his mind around. The Sith he encountered and dueled so long ago had poisoned his mind with false memories, impregnating his psyche with inevitable collapse due to the collision of the two adjacent dominions. And when it happened, it left Mythos a empty shell, void of consciousness and spirit. And yet thanks to the aid of the mystical Jedi and Imperial Knights, he was able to retain himself and the Magics rejected. Still, because of it, he felt fragile and incompetent. Only time would tell whether this was true or not. Beginning his long walk to the Rebel Alliance Headquarters, Mythos shot a simple comm ahead of him, inciting his return.
  8. Mythos heard the familiar voice cross the comms, but his body froze, his form unable to move, unable to speak, simply as if time halted for him in outward appearance with only his gaze able to shift. His men looked upon him curiously, waiting for him to respond until they saw the look of horror in his eyes and knew something was amiss. Almost as if he looked into the abyss and found himself to be claimed by it. Or he had been a victim of a micro-stroke before their very eyes. But for Mythos, it was a deeper horror than any of them could imagine. For Mythos, it was utter possession, his mind on the very of breaking as his eyes rolled into the back of his head after gazing upon the souls of those the Sith had placed to haunt him and the souls it collected after with each battle he partook in. And now, as his exhaustion took complete hold of his psyche, it shattered and the voices screamed deep in his soul until he collapsed before all, fading into the abyss that Nyrys had laid within him, a prison of the mind. As Mythos collapsed, his men filed in rank to aid the Marshal, but found there was nothing physically wrong with him. Smelling salts could not resurrect him, nor could adrenaline awaken him. He simply fell deep into a comatose state as the medics arrived. Lt. Ronson and his men quickly rushed the large Shistavanen to a shuttle, calling ahead to the fleet for a medical team to remain on standby for their arrival. But for Mythos, locked away in his mind filled with horrifying nightmares and wraiths, there felt no escape.
  9. The clanking of durasteel rolled past Mythos from behind, the Shistavanen closing his eyes briefly as the flash bangs ignited, blinded fire finding aim above his head. Opening his eyes as the flash dissipated, Mythos let his rifle open its volley once again, stepping into the Chandrilan House in their final wave against the Mandalorian final defenses. The City was all but won, leaving this final task to be the most gruesome. Stepping into the ground floor's center and gazing up, anger buckled in the pit of his stomach as he gazed upon the strung up form forms that made the House Council. "Cut them down." Mythos ordered, taking to the stairs of the spiraling tower. "Let them rest in peace knowing that we are here to liberate what remain of their people." Atop the spiraling tower sat the House Council Chamber, the likely place of the Mandalorian Commander and his men, as well as the House Chamber's head Councilman, a last ditch prisoner should they have made it this far. And Mythos was intent on doing just that. Wrapping his rifle across his shoulders and to his rear, Mythos crouched to all fours, and charged up the spiral stairs, a blooded glaze over his eyes as he sought to end this before any more blood was shed upon this nearly peaceful planet. "Die Rebel Scum" Mythos heard as crimson bolts lashed out at his form, singeing his fur as he dove behind the duracrete and brought his rifle up to meet the opposition, the men behind him doing the same as they caught up to him. Moments passed, the staircase riddled with crimson and emerald bolts lashing out in both directions before a single smoke grenade draped their forms behind the veil of a thick screen, the Shistavanen taking this moment to attack, his clawed hands and fearsome bite ripping apart the men he encountered, the blooded glaze only thickening. And then silence rang true as the veil of smoke cleared, the enormous Shistavanen standing tall at the top of the stairs, licking clean the blood upon his fur and gaunleted hands before he reached forward to open the Council Chambers and reveal the Mandalorian's within. His gaze locked eyes quickly with the Mandalorian Commander, and as the man reached for his weapon, the others standing around the room's center doing the same, the holdout pistols hidden beneath his coat brandished quicker as he dropped the Commander with two shots to the face, his eyes steaming with blood as his pistols found aim at his Lieutenant and the others just as Mythos's men reached the top. Raising their hands and tossing their weapons aside, Mythos lowered his and stepped forward toward the cowering Councilor laying sprawled in the center. "You're safe." Mythos's gruesome tone voiced as his men began to cuff the remaining Mandalorians, Mythos turning toward the Mandalorian Lieutenant. "Order the remaining to stand down and retreat. Enough blood has been shed and the living can leave. You have my word." With a nod, the Lieutenant issued the stand down and retreat orders as cuffs were placed upon him and his hands bound, his own gaze glaring at Mythos from behind the T-Visor he proudly wore. Before he was taken out, he voiced. "You were a worthy advisory Shistavanen. Kad Ha'rangir is pleased." Mythos gazed down upon the Commander's lifeless form and replied. "Only Cowards kill the innocent." With that, Mythos tapped his comm to those above in the Fleet. "Hannah City is free, Chandrila is free."
  10. Urban warfare was alot different than fighting upon an open battlefield. Where he could once see his enemy many yards ahead, he now hid in wait as did the enemy. Block by block, both hiding the shadows and behind cover, the Mandalorians and the Alliance moved secretively about, every now and then the sound of blaster fire or explosions rippling throughout Hannah City as one or the other managed to find themselves unlucky enough to be spotted. Mythos hated this aspect. It felt cowardly. But war was war, and the only victor would be found through luck and determination no matter the landscape. Mythos licked at his wound through the bandage, the taste of his blood upon his tongue bitter and the pain in leg slowly subsiding despite the roughness of his leathered tongue. The small group, like so many spread throughout the city had found themselves briefly hunkered down for a breather as they watched for unlucky patrols or other allies as they made their way toward the final target. A snap rang through Mythos's senstive hearing, his ears twitching in its direction as he honed in on the sound of a unmanned gun being stepped upon before silence fell behind it. Letting his breath out slowly, the Shistavanen rose his massive form up and as he stepped out from around the corner, brought the gun's scope up to eye level and took aim. More shots resounded as he laid down heavy fire, his men moving to the next point, two hit as they moved, forcing their forms to be dragged behind cover as the rest laid down fire into the opposing unit. And then silence once again, the two medics assigned having the roughest days of all as they took shelter with the wounded. Just a few more blocks and their target would be in view. Mythos gazed at the wounded, one terminal and the other merely grazed. There was sadness in his eyes as his gaze fell upon the terminal one, the distant sounds of shells exploding in the distance. He sighed and nodded to the medic who removed the tags from around the marine's neck. Another casualty in a baseless war. As the breath left him, they moved on. Just a few more blocks. And just a few more blocks indeed. Horrific scenes of Citizens, Mandalorians, Converts, and Alliance filling the streets in near genocide. It was almost picturesque of the history holos, of both war and religion and the many routes it took and intertwined. But as Mythos gazed upon the Chandrilan House, his eyes spoke of not wanting to fight no more forever despite his mind knowing the next battle was just around the corner if he even survived this one. Such was the constant conflict amidst the Galaxy, and had been that way for thousands of millennia. Shifting his gaze around, he began to see the other units finally converging upon the final target as well, his keen sight and smell giving away their positions to him as the subtle breezes shifted. Some still remained in battle, that much could be heard. But there was enough here for the final push. Stepping out of the shadows, the others followed as well. The Mandalorians had fought well this day, but their leader and his company sat just inside, outnumbered and surrounded. It was just one final fight to end this. Stepping up the stairs, Mythos sighed, and placed his large foot squarely into the door, causing the doors to swing wide as his rifle fell to his forward. This was the final push indeed.
  11. Hanna City.... It used to a wonderous city of politics and education, overlooking the Silver Sea and the sitting Arena of Chandrilan House. Sure, like any capital on any world, it may have held a small handful of villainous subjects, but far less than any world that Mythos knew of. He had always found Chandrila to be a planet of tranquility and serenity for the most part, where crime was nearly nonexistent. In truth, it kinda made his stomach churn just to think of it. But the system here worked, and had since the original formation of the Republic, and likely the only one who had. But now, it swarmed with destruction and malicious intent, most of its inhabitants laying dead upon its streets and the rest likely captive or converted. In one aspect, Mythos held a sincere respect for the Mandalorians and their wars of honor and simplicity. But at the same time, this visage he gazed upon, spoke no honor nor symbolism. This was downright war and they had invaded a planet with little to do with the bigger scheme they sought. As a medic bandaged his leg, Mythos waited for the right moment, his forces beginning to surround the large city more and more by the moment. This battle may be won, but the cost for booths sides were too great to ever truly be called a victory. And the saddest truth was that the fight had only passed the first stage. Now came the urban warfare, where meeting an enemy face to face was as likely as meeting the Dark Lord himself upon this battlefield. Once he was ready, he drew his rifle, refilling the emptied gas cartridge with a fresh one. There were many leaders this day across the entire taskforce, the plans laid out by the higher ups with intent to do far less damage as possible to regain control. But these Mandalorians knew better and the damage was far greater, countless forms littering the city's walls and entrances as warnings to those who dared to oppose or deny conversion. And yet, he dared with all his heart. With a shove up, placing pressure upon his wounded leg despite the pain, he continued. He would free this city even if it cost him his life. And with that, Mythos and the others began their assualt upon Hanna City. Only time would tell if it was worth saving now....
  12. It was a fire fight.... Echoed by the large singular shot from his black powdered rifle as soon as his boot treaded upon Chandrilan soil, the balls of durasteel tearing through armor and flesh with disregard. Slinging the rifle across his back as his men fell in behind, Mythos caught a blaster rifle tossed his way and joined in the ensuing fray, crimson and emerald bolts crossing paths as the rest of the Armada began to slowly set down and more men poured from the angelic breasts that held the Rebel Alliance, a hailstorm of dust and rock erupting from their settling. It was as if this was the defining moment of the Alliance, the moment where the final line had been crossed and judgement day had befell the Mandalorian forces. Echoes of hearts beating as one, vengeance filling their souls in memorial of Coruscant and after as they treaded forward in conviction. Mythos led the first assualt aimed at the capital city, the outskirts meant to be the beach head of it all, his aim true and his heart filled with sorrow. For several of their opposing numbers had grown, likely rose by those they came to save. Such was the way of the Mandalorian Crusaders... convert or die. Alas, he understood their choice, but it was still a choice made, as as he lapped at his chops, staring down the barrel of his blaster, he made peace with each soul he released from bondage, from slavery in its purest form. Calming his breath and slowing his heart, he fired again, emerald bolts true to their targets. His gaze shifted briefly about, careful to discern friend from foe as he took aim toward another, and pulled again, releasing more. War he may have been newly appointed to, but fire fights he was not. Not just because of the world he came from, but because of the life he chose. Life was full of them, and his sorrow fell upon those who chose to stand against his cause. Losses could be seen and felt on both sides, the Mandalorians giving as good as they got, something he had long came to expect and respect. But they held the might of the Zinthos Empire and Galactic Alliance in full, and together made the heart and soul of the Rebel Alliance, protectors of all basic rights and keepers of order. The fists of Good would always triumph over the clutches of evil, and Mythos knew this well. And so as they neared the capital, a wake of fallen comrades and enemies alike, Mythos knew the battle was won even before it began. As he shifted his gaze once more, however, the haunting memory of Dark Sun plagued his mind and sight briefly, causing the Shistavanen to lose sight of his task briefly and receive a blow to his thigh. Buckling down, he grimaced, landing one more blow across his back before someone took out the sharpshooter and drug him to cover despite his size. Shaking his mind clear, Mythos focused. Now that they had reached the city, it was more imperative that he remained here and now than to let his curse become his downfall. Shoving the medic that rushed to his aid to the side, his glare shouted the words that followed. "Don't worry about me. I will heal."
  13. War.... Its scent was always the same. The smell of fire and carnage, the percussion of lives ended in misery, and the ever forward flight of pushing forward. Mythos stood at the forefront of his vessel, the two squads at the helm of a might filled Armada headed to liberate this world known as Chandrila, sitting in silence behind the Shistavanen as the newly established comrades gaze fell upon each other. Death... It was an inevitability they all faced each time they chose to step forward in the name of liberty and life, carefree in the views of their enemies, and standing tall in their convictions. But the fear still lingered the moments before touchdown, where in any given moment, fate could intervene and all would be taken from their control. As the thoughts crossed their minds, some gripped the barrels of their guns in anticipation while others prayed to their gods in silence that they would be seen through unscathed. Battle... It erupted all around them, their faith in those who stood with them flinching with every explosion as the vessel traced forward evermore, their enemies relentless in their own beliefs as ever warrior knew that in battle, luck was everything until the moment skill came into play. Mythos only gazed forward, watching the onslaught of Mandalorian Forces that drew to attack, the massive beast licking his chops in the moment and knowing full well that those behind him, like those aboard the bridges and within the starships, all flew one banner now, and what that singular individual banner meant for them all. A banner forged in blood, sweat, tears, and lives. It stood for everything they held dear to their hearts. And as their hearts beat to the drums of war, they were here to answer its call. Silence.... It was the moment of landing, the moment of know what to expect but never what to expect. It was the moment before the boarding ramp lowered and the Armada stormed the beach heads in full might. It was the moment before a singular foot stepped upon the soil they were there liberate and cleanse of the darkness and corruption they were there to rid the world of in a singular fight. And it was the moment before a single life was lost upon it. Grabbing his gear and heading to the rear, Mythos stood ready in that moment, his massive paw angling for the ramp's release. He grinned massively as best he could, but it was more fearsome than welcoming as his paw slammed against the release and with a hiss, the boarding ramp began its descent. He would always lead the charge, his men ready in waiting, and as the first of many enemies came visible, his gun roared with its singular explosive destruction. Chandrila... Help had arrived.
  14. Even though a response never came, Mythos enjoyed his meal rather lavishly. He may have looked like a wild animal, but his manners were well behaved as he cut the steak into small morsels and ate the potatoes with a spoon. When he finally sat back and let his full stomach press hard against his clothes, he let out a satisfied sigh before encircling his stomach with his paw, his long tongue licking the small portions that remained between his maw and gums. But today would not stay all calm, cozy, and collected as his comm unit blared out loud and briefly interrupted other patrons, Mythos apologizing as he scooped up what remained of the credstick and made his way out the door. Looking at the comm unit with slight despair, he sighed, and put the unit away. It was back to active duty, only a shifting moment of relaxation enjoyed. Gathering his equipment and finding a quick restroom to use, it wouldn't be long before he was aboard the Misericordia. He only hoped his mind would not end with his derelict of duty this day.
  15. Mythos's brow furrowed as she spoke, his tail shifting in his displeasure. The young Imperialist called his survival a blessing, which, in the usual context, he could see. But in truth, it now felt like a curse. Not in the sense that he had survived, but the darkness he felt she had placed upon him, the visions of spirits and the dead, her trickery to haunt his mind. He was doing all he could to hold it together. Taking another lap of his drink, he sat it down and opened his own menu. "Didn't know that such services were offered." Mythos spoke with surprise, the veteran of the Alliance Marshals having never really heard of post mission therapy, but the days of old had long changed since he was truly active. He was the last of a dying breed, from an era where emotional syndromes weren't openly talked about except over a few alcoholic beverages. "What do these services entail exactly?" As the Marshal awaited her reply, he shifted his hand toward a waiter and began making his order; a large steak, medium rare with a portion of potatoes and a small fist sized yeast bun off to the side. Handing over the cred stick to pay for the Meals, Mythos turned back to the young Imperialist. "Truth be told, I'm beginning to believe she hexed me. Or that I'm simply going crazy. I see the spirits she rose that day everywhere I turn lately in my perifial, only to look and not see anything there. They invade my mind even in my dreams, and I'm exhausted."
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