A little intro on a mercenary warband I’m making and painting at the moment.
+++Planet: Castan Beta+++
+++Imperial influence: waning+++
+++Ruler: Dutchess Anspree The Fat+++
+++Resources: Heavily depleted mineral deposits+++
Biter half lent and half crouched close to the edge of the wall. It was quiet compared to the racket that had erupted mere seconds earlier. Too quiet. Except for the gurgling splutter of the filth he had just shot in the neck. He jutted his chin forward and squinted his eyes in an intense effort to hear over dead man’s final gasps; there was more than one after all. What an awful idea this had been.
He’d told Ratbrain this before stepping foot on this rotting planet. Said he’d had a bad feeling in his gut that something was off. Biter always trusted his gut. It told him when to fight and when to run. It usually told him to run and it had saved him many times and seen him through many a close scrape but the boss is the boss… as long as he has money and as long as he has enough to split with his… loyal assistants. For the moment the fat bitch, Anspree was making sure their pockets were weighing them down.
+++To be continued when I have a spare half hour+++