5028

Draenica: The Ashlands

Galactic Date 00:08:380 5028

The next ten years passed by in what felt like a flash. The Second Soulless Celestial War had raged on that entire decade, and a new Galactic year was ushered in. A lot of us from Furelle had spread to the stars in search of new homes. Maurel had gone her own way in life, while I'd chosen to stay on Draenica. It wasn't too bad once you got used to it. The constant volcanic activity was manageable if you had the right gear, and the Draens were generally kind people, with... a few exceptions.

The Draen are a more bird-like people. Wings, feathers, horns, and such. They had these big eyes, all one color and not a pupil to be seen. You'd typically only see two types of Draen, each with their own coloration. The Frev'n were black from head to toe, with green eyes and a razor sharp set of teeth. They were the good ones, as I'd come to find out. I was afraid of them when I'd first landed, but they were good to me and Maurel growing up. The other kind were the Oc'r. Opposing their brethren, they spouted white features with a set of bright orange eyes. They were the ones you needed to watch out for. Some of the most cold-hearted people I've ever met. I don't want to generalize, though. There are good and bad on both sides.

But like I said, it's definitely not the worst place to live, even if that's what many people would like to have you believe. If it had been up to me back then, I probably would have tried to live out the rest of my life there. Fate, however, had other plans for me.

My speeder zipped over ashy dunes, a high whir blaring from its engine. I tipped back as I hit the peak of a dune, soaring off over the ground. As I touched back down, a burst of ash and dust erupted, spraying into the air. I wiped my goggles clean, leaning forward and regaining control. Twisting and turning, I made my way through the Ashlands, a hazardous environment stretching between the settlements. Draens had adapted environmental shields from other races to protect their homes from the constant volcanic activity on the planet. Few people braved the Ashlands if they didn't have to. If they did, they usually did so in the comfort of a ship or car. I didn't have that luxury. Not a lot of money to be made here as a Terran. Oc'r made sure of that after being forced to loan out their home to aliens. Can see their side, but it's easy to be bitter on the short end of the stick.

Either way, I had something out here I needed to get my hands on. It wasn't easy to see through the storm, but I could just barely make out the flashing red light of a crashed ship. Three days was our rule as scrappers. Once that had passed and no one claimed it, it was free game. I'd usually come out on the first day to scope and assist anyone who might have been on board. This one had been a Solar Federation dropship, likely trying to escape from the battle on Furelle. Didn't get a chance to ask the crew. Dead by the time I'd gotten there. I buried them beside the ship.

As I pulled up, I set my foot down beside a fallen set of sticks that I'd used to mark the graves. Sighing, I knelt down; the wind whipping over my cowl. I grabbed one of the sticks, thrusting it back into the ground upright. I made sure to twist and dig it in, hoping it wouldn't fall over again, before doing the same to the one beside it. I paused, hearing another speeder pull up beside mine. Someone else stepped off, walking toward me.

"You always get this sentimental?" A thin, smooth voice asked from behind me. I grunted as I got to my feet, turning to face a dark Draen lady. She was lanky, covered in similar gear as mine. The wind pulled at her cloak, much of her face obscured by either her hood or the mask she wore to breathe out here.