[ Of all the places Armitage could be, inside one of those lumbering machines is not one of them. No, he has situated himself safely within the Perimeter Guard headquarters and offered his assistance as an overseer of the tactical plans as they advance in-action. It's a speciality. As General of the Finalizer, and long before, he has been shaped to assess multiple stratagem to work in his favour in the shortest amount of time, tailored to command others. He likes to think he isn't too shabby about having his troops attended to, if they make it back; there is a reason the crew of his ship are loyal.
Also, it was either this or attempting to pilot one of those deathtraps on the ground. So. ]
Mech-Nine, your shield is due to destabilise. Switch to automatic cannons.
[ He fucking resents this. It isn't his place to be doling out instructions on a personal level, surely someone could be assigned? But, no. It's Armitage bent over a console, flicking between channels with snappish impatience whenever the footage and statistics bode ill. ]
Mech-Two, shut-down in sixteen minutes, thirteen seconds. Retreat. Mech-Eighteen, attend pick-up of pilots from Area-C effective immediately. Abandon the equipment, there are two B-class behemoths headed your way.
[ It's mind-numbing but no more taxing than his duties en-route to his position as General. ]
iv dreams.
[ The Supremacy is made even more glorious under his rule: Emperor Hux, the first of his name. His Mega-Class Star Dreadnought serves as his home within the United Galactic Empire, the safest place in all of existence and, as he commands it to move, the mobile centre of his domain. The Emperor sits upon a tall throne of kyber-crystal, a snub to the ancient wizardry that once died out with the Old Empire; a reminder that no Force-sensitive will ever rise in power again ... on behalf of either side of their so-called Balance. His robes are white and red, endless miles of stormtroopers saluting before him. Brendol Hux was a brute, a worthless creature compared to his illegitimate son, and now when generals bow it isn't his father's legacy that overshadows his own. Finally.
See what I have become, father.
He allows a smile as he rises, hands clasped behind his back as he surveys his indomitable army. A ginger cat curls around his boots, purring. ]
armitage hux, ster wers
[ Of all the places Armitage could be, inside one of those lumbering machines is not one of them. No, he has situated himself safely within the Perimeter Guard headquarters and offered his assistance as an overseer of the tactical plans as they advance in-action. It's a speciality. As General of the Finalizer, and long before, he has been shaped to assess multiple stratagem to work in his favour in the shortest amount of time, tailored to command others. He likes to think he isn't too shabby about having his troops attended to, if they make it back; there is a reason the crew of his ship are loyal.
Also, it was either this or attempting to pilot one of those deathtraps on the ground. So. ]
Mech-Nine, your shield is due to destabilise. Switch to automatic cannons.
[ He fucking resents this. It isn't his place to be doling out instructions on a personal level, surely someone could be assigned? But, no. It's Armitage bent over a console, flicking between channels with snappish impatience whenever the footage and statistics bode ill. ]
Mech-Two, shut-down in sixteen minutes, thirteen seconds. Retreat. Mech-Eighteen, attend pick-up of pilots from Area-C effective immediately. Abandon the equipment, there are two B-class behemoths headed your way.
[ It's mind-numbing but no more taxing than his duties en-route to his position as General. ]
iv dreams.
[ The Supremacy is made even more glorious under his rule: Emperor Hux, the first of his name. His Mega-Class Star Dreadnought serves as his home within the United Galactic Empire, the safest place in all of existence and, as he commands it to move, the mobile centre of his domain. The Emperor sits upon a tall throne of kyber-crystal, a snub to the ancient wizardry that once died out with the Old Empire; a reminder that no Force-sensitive will ever rise in power again ... on behalf of either side of their so-called Balance. His robes are white and red, endless miles of stormtroopers saluting before him. Brendol Hux was a brute, a worthless creature compared to his illegitimate son, and now when generals bow it isn't his father's legacy that overshadows his own. Finally.
See what I have become, father.
He allows a smile as he rises, hands clasped behind his back as he surveys his indomitable army. A ginger cat curls around his boots, purring. ]