Distant gunfire is what a lone figure heard. Covered in the dust of stone, awoke a wounded man, pushing past fallen rubble, finding himself in a small room, in the company of three corpses, getting to his feet, he winced as he remembered his pain, looking down, his leg was matted with blood and dust. It had slightly healed, enough to let him walk freely with only a trickle of crimson liquid falling to the floor, instead of gushing as it once did. Corridors he had not seen before were broken. Cracked central beams ran across the ceiling every meter, the concrete missing large chunks, rubble littered the floor and smoke stole the air from his lungs. Limping down the semi collapsed concrete walkway and up the stairs, that still had blood stains from the Gryph killed when the pirates took over. Now, no pirates or gryph fought for control, no screams could be heard, just the distant thuds, and rumbles as some buildings gave in and collapsed, drowning out the sound of gunfire here and there.
Through the now splintered massive ancient wooden doors, in the courtyard, a smoking tank sat with a large hole bent outward through its side hull. Its smooth and slender aerodynamic shape caught the sun perfectly and almost blinded the survivor as he staggered over the rubble and bodies. A mixture of them lay amongst the cracked stone slab floor, gryph and pirate alike remained motionless. Their bodies covered in blood and dust.
Peering inside the burnt out hull of the tank, he could make out the forms of the still smouldering crew, remaining where they took their last breath. Unable to make out any features other than burnt flesh, he moved on, knowing anything inside the hull was done for. After spending some time searching the many bodies that littered the rubble, he managed to find a fair amount of weaponry off the pirate corpses and easy pack rations from the Gryph.
Familiarising himself with the home-brew weapon he pulled off a dismembered pirate; the only functional weapon he could find, he slung the stubbed off machine pistol over his shoulder, and held it in place with its seemingly leather strap. Taking a hat he found dancing in the wind amongst the rubble to protect his scalp and to keep his mind wary, he took in his surroundings.
Broken walls roughly two stories high, their shapes mangled from war. Large bites had been taken from their skins from large munitions pelting their forms. The building he climbed out of, he recognised only just as the core fortress, where the Gryph had their primary military headquarters on Merrriden IV. Now, it was a miracle to still be partially standing. As as if on cue, as the survivor thought, a loud crunch came from inside the massive building, followed by another, and another, and then, the building shook and fell. Throwing mortar, dust and stone in all directions as it crumbled into nothing but another ruined pile of rubble.
Making for the higher ground, he climbed the nearest wall, the sun baked stone crumbled a little against his rough hands, but the bulk stayed solid. His view, once reaching the walkway of the stone wall lowered his spirits. Although a fog covered most of the lower valley, he could see the smouldering city of Forgod, or simply it's skeletal remains, he could make out the tales of war in the fields before him, bodies scattered amongst the browned and burned grass, a blackened vehicle sat with melted tyres or tracks here and there, only the wind stirred. The symphony of battle had since left this area, claimed its victims and moved on to its next theatre of war.
Listening to the echoes of gunfire, that theatre was small in size, and taking place in the forest. Tree tops only just poked out above the thick fog, unmoved by the breeze that softly kissed the flanks of the wood.
Turning his attention to his other surroundings, knowing the battle in the forest wasn't his concern, he saw something that saddened him more than the surrounding scenes, but also gave him a little hope. The long steel body lay in the dirt and rock. It's once beautiful blue frame blotched and bent from the impact with the surface. The ship, still seemed beautiful to his eye, especially when he read the nose plate name.
The Evergreen.
No more than half a mile away from the fortress, the wreckage lay, inviting him to something he could call home. The fire's had long extinguished in the surrounding area. The smell of burned flesh and charred hair still filled his nostrils as the fields of dead remained. Odd that no victor took the field. Perhaps the crash of the Evergreen saw the end of the conflict. Remembering his time at Red Sector Zero-One, he suddenly began approaching bodies with caution, pointing the end of his rife at their heads until he could make out that they had no mutated features showing likeness to the Banshee.
About half way through the fields, an idea suddenly surfaced in the man's muddled mind, casting his eyes to the sky, he saw no aircraft. Nothing to indicate superiority over a field of battle, he could not hear any signs of engines. Only the occasional echo's of gunfire carried by the wind gave the man the indication of an active combat zone. Once satisfied there was no air support in the area, friendly or otherwise, he trained his eyes upon the hull of the Evergreen, his heavy legs still carried him forward. "That's good." he said, noting the vacant escape pod bays displayed down the flank of the ship. "at least some got off alive."
Venturing closer, he could make out the deep gouges in the skin, craters from bullet impacts and finally, the long exit veins of the main reactor explosion, metal had been sliced open and bent out with the force. Holding little expectations that she would fly again, he did withhold the hope of shelter and supplies.
The silent vessel lay lifeless. The trickle and drip of liquid echoed throughout the empty corridors. Rarely, a flash would erupt from something still containing some form of electrical life as it sparked, trying to regain its former magnificence.
The darkness temporarily defeated for a split second as the arcs jumped from console to deck plate, the brilliant light glistening over the skin of the skulking soldier as he advanced warily through the corridor that spoke to him with the echo of his steps. A distant dripping of what he hoped was not anything flammable made its way to his ears, his mind wondered to the vast wreckage of The Evergreen, crumpled and bent from her previous splendour, still holding a small regard for beauty and she still tried with all her remaining strength to hold herself proud.
The dripping and creaking soon drifted into the background as a new noise slid into his brain, a grumble and sniffing followed by the soft thud, thud of hairy paws came from behind, he turned as quietly as he could to try and see from where the beast was coming from. Unable to get that information from the darkened corridors, he backed away from the direction of the sound. Feeling his way to a corridor joint, he turned and put as much distance as he could between himself and the creature. The length of the metal atriums varied from crippled and bent to seemingly undamaged. At a four way junction, two had completely collapsed, the other had a orange flickering glow emanating further down its length. The closer he got, the more he could hear the crackle and roar of flames eating away at their food.