[Solo RP for the NCF's occupation of Fichina. Also, for those of you that care, it's my first formal "release" of the Fichinian language, which I've been working on lately :D]

Solar and an ashen snowfall coalesced, but heavier clouds threatened their love, along with the sound of the engines' outcry, violent against the early Fichinian morning. As the soldiers landed, their feet left a beautiful architecture through the sweetest layers of the crystals, but as Isaac looked closer, cries echoed, protesting the encroachment in the essence of vanity.

The surface never matches the interior.

"'Ey!" Shots.

"Captain, n-no, please don't, th-they're frightened as it is."

"Easy there partner, don't sound so aggressive."

"Well then tell 'em to calm the hell down, Uyo. I don't have time for crowd control. Tell 'em we don't mean 'em no harm."

But they only assumed. Fichina wasn't just peaceful, it was peace, as his grandfather had always said. But he had always constantly reminded him that the universe beyond refused those constraints, those of peace. Back then Isaac hadn't given a second thought to the old wolf's word choice--constraints. But it was true. As long as society strove for peace, there would have to be constraints. Perhaps that's why anarchy was still chosen by some. Because in the end, it wasn't power that corrupted, nor fame, nor wealth.

Freedom corrupted.

And outside the thick walls of that cerebrum, chaos continued--Fichina knew weaponry, but as a whole was made very uncomfortable by the military, ever since past NCF outposts, now having been abandoned for some time, had lead to conflict.

Fichina didn't like conflict.

So there was shouting, warning in Fichinian, cries of dismay, distress that posed question--was this the beginning of the end? No doubt some of them knew of the downfall of Aquas--no, no, betrayal. Not yet had it fallen, but somehow Isaac knew that there was no way. And no matter the facade worn by the NCF, by the Alliance, the facade of soft betrayal, the betrayal of confidence, that lied, saying that Aquas was safe, Isaac knew that the simple presence of a defense force at Fichina was enough to release inner beliefs, that eventually Aquas would fall. The more pseudo-footholds claimed now, the better.

"F-fe o'žo aoekavu t-tybevu."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure they've got the message now."

"C'mon kid, I need you to get them to listen. I can't talk that shit." More shots to the heart of the sky.

"'Ey!" The captain, a young but experienced beagle, pointed to Isaac, causing the white wolf to shrink away, as though expecting a blow. Voices die, focus shift.

"You listen to this guy here," he said. Sighed. "Alright Uyo, let 'em have it."

"Knock 'em dead."

"Fe o'žo aoekavu tybevu." Tried to stop from breaking. "Gaji fe do'yo gaono."

But they didn't believe. As voices mixed, Isaac absentmindedly searched for a rhythm in this utter ataxia of sound. Silently he begged for crescendo, and perhaps the rhythm would protect them.

"They're not buyin' it, Uyo. The hell did you say?" Under his breath.

"I t-told them we're h-here to help, that they're going to b-be okay."

"Can you tell them we're setting up a perimeter? Tell 'em to stick here while we set up a perimeter." Rough, fast, businesslike. But the white wolf nodded. He turned back to the crowd, to his brothers and sisters.

"Fe do'yo ame'na vyga tyjuono. Fe sa'yo fe ožo' tyeyavu. Mayžy' vyga tyžyma." A slight strength afforded by both him and the crowd. They beat calm; he beat dread. He looked to the captain.

"There you are, s-sir." The beagle nodded his thanks. Suddenly he looked away from Isaac, directing his eyes to the wolf's side. A tap came at Isaac's arm.

"Seru?"

He hadn't heard that name in ages.

It was a gnarled old Fichinian, his extreme age nearly robbing him of any sense of wisdom. He was just tired. He continued speaking, drool slipping unnoticed from his lower lip.

"Seru? Doyo' tykavu?"

"Uyony?"

"Isn't he dead yet?"

"You know this old coot, Uyo?" Isaac looked up at the captain.

"Y-yes sir. He's an old friend of my grandfather's. His name is Uyony. He used to be the head council member in Koori, but I think he's too old now."

"Doyo' tykavu, Seru?" Isaac nodded, strangely fond of his old name. Reveled in it.

"O'žo Serusuruk Uyo tykavu."

I am Serusuruk Uyo.

He smiled, but the gnarled responded with nothing but a decrepit posture, cowering in fear, face ripped through crepuscular contortions.

"Seru, dyge' tyžyma. Boma' zana fe o'žo tykavu." And the face of Serusuruk Uyo fell, because the gnarled one was right.

"C'mon Uyo, give it up. What's all that jibberish?"

"He s-said...he said, 'We are no warriors.'"

"Ain't it the truth."