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Snippet #2772074

located in Wing City, a part of The Multiverse, one of the many universes on RPG.

Wing City

You have entered Wing City, the third largest city on Terra and its premier capital. Hustling and bustling with activity, this city serves as a hub of social and political activity, as well as the prestigious solo combat capital of the quadrant.

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"W.I.N.G.E.D? ..... Very....interesting..."

He was in the city after it had been attacked initially, and miraculously, survived. When he saw the warring forces clash, he wondered what all there was he could do. Of course, he would fight against the 'bad guys' that we're ravaging the city. But there were two other groups, and how was he supposed to deal with it?

In a grasp of genius he looked toward W.I.N.G.E.D, and the potential in his brain came to life.

Stepping forward, he came side to side with Arcus Sol. In the middle of the ravished land stood nearly one hundred a fifty, determined men. But had they a place to go? A leader to rule? He didn't want to self-appoint himself, but he took the honor of rising up onto a crushed rock, raising his fist into the air and looking towards the sky.


"The citizens of Wing City...Members of Winged....I speak to you now."

He lowered his fist, gathering their attention with charismatic grace.

"Today our city was ravaged, and now a war is being fought for it. Little do I know about such things, I am an ordinary man myself. But nonetheless, the enemy shall pay for what they did here today."

He walked higher on the torn boulder, stepping into the sun where his figure gleamed. He wore a rugged trench-coat, brown, dusty. He looked just like your average businessman. His boots had the same appearance as his jacket, covered in dust and horribly mauled. But the thing that stood out most was the look in his eyes. Intelligence and honor, determination. It was what could be seen in a hero.

"My friends...follow me...unto victory!"

A powerful leader was what a small but powerful group needed. He had the brains, he just hoped he would be accepted by them. And if not, being the average soldier was for the same cause.

As Arcus Sol left, he turned as well, pulling a pen out of his pocket, writing down his frequency. He waved once to the restiong men and went off.