Rhen Var


"No, no no no don't do that!"

He was running down the main corridor of his ship (really, it was their ship), desperate to reach the rear engine bay in time before that damn idiot did anything to make their already dire situation so much... much more worse.

The Rascal King shuddered as he descended through the layers of atmosphere, his lower hull glowing as he pushed further down. He rocked and juked, sending Markos from one bulkhead to the other. There was no end to the shuddering, and it seemed as though the wild buffeting would tear the ship apart in a matter of seconds. Their descent was barely controlled as it was, and the ancient ship had certainly seen better days. An understatement if there ever was one, to be sure. The old olive drab paint had flecked away ages ago to reveal a matte grey surface that had just not been repainted. It would happen... eventually.

Of course if they swan-dived into the snowy tundras of Rhen Var, that paint job would be more of a salvage job. If there was anything left to salvage.

Careening around a corner, Markos steadied himself with a hand to the circular doorframe.

"Hey! I said not to do that!"

He could see the bent back of his partner, hunched over a short distance away, and Markos surged ahead once more. One more doorway, and the blonde skidded low, letting his body fall so that he slid on his knees right up to the edge of an opened floor panel. He reached for a handful of hair.

"Dammit you ignoramus! You're gonna break my ship!"