The Disembarkation of a Vulture [Complete]

Year 4, Dec 8

Port De'Luge: the place where all airship traffic to and from Manehatten comes and goes. Today a regularly scheduled cargo vessel arrived to deliver goods to the fort and prison located on this remote island, and to any onlookers the zeppelin would be nondescript. However, it's cargo was anything but ordinary. As the ship docked in the small bay located in the fort, and the crates and barrels of foodstuffs were removed,  a secretive griffon hobbled out slowly, almost mechanically. With a laboured breath, the griffon removed his hood and exposed his "face" for the griffon onlookers to see.

A leather, airtight mask covered his face, with a tube leading to a secured filter attached to his side. His wings were missing, little more than stubs, however this was covered by his rich velvet cloak. His left arm was the only non-prosthetic limb on his body, the res all metallic "fake" limbs attached to stumps. His emaciated body, what little showed, was of a pale white fur, and his feathered head was a bleached gray. A single armoured plate covered his chest, with the symbol of the Tsardom engraved proudly on its surface. Giving another wheeze, the griffon clanked down the flagstone hallway. Several griffons began following him, all in the uniform of secretaries and advisors, and all quietly considering their superior. For this was the Monster of Fillydelphia, the Destroyer of Trottingham; this was Colonel Johan Tercel, of the Tsar's Artillery Corps.

Reaching his destination with his little "entourage", the Colonel gave a click of his beak to signify attention. After several savoured moments of silence, the menacing persona of Johan spoke. "I wish to have my supplies and luggage brought to my pre-arranged quarters. If you would kindly do so, I would most appreciate it." After his subordinates disappeared into the woodwork, the Colonel stepped into the office that he had been given.

 The room no windows, as it had once been a storage space. However, as per his requests, it had been transformed into a veritable luxury office. Bookshelves filled with his rare tomes on magic, gunsmithing, and warfare (among several other academic topics) were stacked neatly in the Timberwolf-wood shelves. His chair, brought directly with him from the Halden Duchy, was surfaced with the leather of the Pegasi that cost him his wings and arm, as well as his face. The desk, made of traditional Halden pine, was a gift from his father. On the wall, atop the desk, his younger brother's sword lay mounted, the only memento of Mikael. 

Sitting himself on his chair, he removed his prosthetic legs with a hydraulic *hiss* as the joints relaxed in the metal creations. Restraining his waist to the chair so that he was comfortable, he scooted himself up to the desk and began to read the multiple files strewn about. They concerned "individuals of interest" to Johan, and was populated by all manners of mercenary and private contractor. Two caught his eye immediately, however. An Aquillian griffoness named "Rhena Fullplume" and an adolescent dragon codenamed "Hepheastus". Clicking his beak, he set the two dossiers aside for later. With a whir, he checked the list of his coworkers with a reading glass located in his right lens. It seemed that the city was in a worse state than his colleague had written to him about... It was no matter. Manehatten would fall like Fillydelphia did. 

Giving a sigh, he looked up at the large painting directly across the room. A scene of a griffonic artillery squadron was shown in surprising detail, with griffons loading cannon and shelling a burning city in the distance. The painting was titled, "End of a Siege" and was a collectors item. Depicting Johan's most glorious action in his career, it was a picture of the first barrage fired on Trottingham in the Tsar's name. 

Wistfully sighing he turned to his duties. There was work to be done, and invitations to be sent. He wondered if the fort had facilities for a ball? No matter. It was time to plan.