It happened for light-years around Terra, the planet serving as the home of Wing City and Metro City. For those in possession, every speaker, every screen would light up. Similarly, those with enough magical ability -- or at least those that weren't blocking it -- would receive the magical equivalent to a holographic projection a few feet away.
To the ear, a calm, gentle voice came, the tone carrying just a hint of authority, and just a dash more sorrow. To the eyes came the image of a man. He was of moderate height, and his build, from that which could be discerned by the naked eye, was quite average. He sat on a stool -- or perhaps it was a tree stump -- with his arms on his thighs and his head hung, a length of silky auburn hair obscuring his face. A tan, almost white duster adorned with multiple insignias of a military origin covered his form, barely shifting as he spoke. Next to him, learning against some obscure surface out of sight, was a rifle equating half his own height, barrel aside. It was perhaps the most violent looking thing to him.
"Those of you who would fight for Terra," his voice called, "I am Serini Chrono, and I come to you with an apology and an offering. For those of you who might know my face, or worse yet, my name, you likely know what I have done. For those that don't, while I can say that I am not responsible for most that has happened to Wing City, I am severely at fault for much of the destruction and plaguing that has overtaken Metro City, which has taken a direct effect upon the planet."
At this point, he lifted his head, his hair clearing his face to reveal a clean-shaven face, a wiry set of lips, but perhaps most defining, a set of emerald eyes. While the rest of himself spoke of early twenties, his eyes spoke of hundred of years or sorrow and suffering. He continued, "I have recently excised that which caused these atrocities, but it is in no way an excuse. Therefore, I am reforming Soldier, a military organization I was once the proud leader of. We are dedicated to the blending of magic and technology, and I will accept nearly all who wish to fight, so long as you understand this: until Terra is righted, we will be in the planet's service, doing that which is needed to restore balance to this place. If you are viewing this, you have means of communicating me, and you are welcomed to use it."
To the ear, a calm, gentle voice came, the tone carrying just a hint of authority, and just a dash more sorrow. To the eyes came the image of a man. He was of moderate height, and his build, from that which could be discerned by the naked eye, was quite average. He sat on a stool -- or perhaps it was a tree stump -- with his arms on his thighs and his head hung, a length of silky auburn hair obscuring his face. A tan, almost white duster adorned with multiple insignias of a military origin covered his form, barely shifting as he spoke. Next to him, learning against some obscure surface out of sight, was a rifle equating half his own height, barrel aside. It was perhaps the most violent looking thing to him.
"Those of you who would fight for Terra," his voice called, "I am Serini Chrono, and I come to you with an apology and an offering. For those of you who might know my face, or worse yet, my name, you likely know what I have done. For those that don't, while I can say that I am not responsible for most that has happened to Wing City, I am severely at fault for much of the destruction and plaguing that has overtaken Metro City, which has taken a direct effect upon the planet."
At this point, he lifted his head, his hair clearing his face to reveal a clean-shaven face, a wiry set of lips, but perhaps most defining, a set of emerald eyes. While the rest of himself spoke of early twenties, his eyes spoke of hundred of years or sorrow and suffering. He continued, "I have recently excised that which caused these atrocities, but it is in no way an excuse. Therefore, I am reforming Soldier, a military organization I was once the proud leader of. We are dedicated to the blending of magic and technology, and I will accept nearly all who wish to fight, so long as you understand this: until Terra is righted, we will be in the planet's service, doing that which is needed to restore balance to this place. If you are viewing this, you have means of communicating me, and you are welcomed to use it."