He Who Follows Donkeys (event)
Character: Duke Kallistos Kasathonex of Magi Auxiliaros Corpus XII
Fools! Utter fools! Fucking bastards! The lowborn peasants they allow to become 'Legons', and those decrepit old fossils who are so trapped in their fucking backwards minds that they spend all day reminiscing about when there as but one moon and an Empire they'd not fucked into the ground for me to inherit. To believe I, Kallistos Kasathonex, the scion of generations of the Purest blood descended from the Purest them-fucking-self was tricked into following those bloviating slave-minds and our so-called-Legon to die in some worthless valley to some hellish Sjalvolki Fogbeast... damn it all! What was I thinking!?
Thank the Purest that we were tasked with attempting to flank the Sjalvolki on horse as the Legion-Magi of old, me and my men would not have survived had we not the chance to ride like the hells away from that accursed hole. Even with that, however, I can only recognize a few dozen of the fellow nobles around me. Of the commoners I count on but one hand soldiers from the Legion I'd been attached to.
Narses, the dolt, is doomed. The pathetic 'coalition' that marched to save him is shattered, so is this accursed empire my bloodline has shackled me to the corpse of. I'll not give the barbarian my hands, nor will I give him the pure-blood of my kin. It's time to take these wretched survivors I've become responsible for and to leave, for all of our sakes.
I hear the Isles are nice this time of year...