Freignor Reizlaz

History
Freignor’s life has been largely unnoteworthy since birth. Raised by kindly parents in a warm home, pretty average schooling (offset by various anger management issues that were overcome by counselling) and a small stint in the military for his mandatory service, that hopefully would lead into a military career away from the choking, overwhelming confines of home to become a competent, full-fledged adult. But words from Dad and a long discussion and a couple of drinks would lead him to change his mind, and soon he decided to stay home for a while, take up the family business, earn good money. No need to try and be one of those cocky, stuck-up jocks in the army. The city was close by, his friends were all here, as few as he had. Why ruin this? It was safe and calm.

He had maintained a good standing with his friends and family, aiding the few interns that would be taken on by the family shop. Since the community of people living in the commercial district was actually quite small it was easy for everyone to know each other, making it quite a sheltered little group. The residential zones were far too large and too big for such an opportunity, but after Freignor’s father’s father moved there from the colonies and set up, this small community actually made them feel quite at home. This is exactly the reason why, once the evacuations started and the first images of Taetrus burning were broadcast across the stars, the people in that district started helping each other to move before getting themselves away.

This would put them in severe danger once the initial attacks started and the first Reapers set their mighty metal claws on the dirt. The civilians in New Cirilis were either fleeing or had already fled and the guard had already mobilized in the streets, and meanwhile their community were still making sure that the elderly in town were able to get away safely with their medicines and required apparatus. It should have surprised no-one when the Reaper forces from the broken eastern barricade arrived and decimated the zone. The main defending forces were on the other side of the city, so there was no real organized defence, only a ‘drop everything and leave’ retreat, for all the good it did.

The survivors agreed to meet with the guardsmen and escape, splitting up through the city. Freignor got separated from his parents in a panicked situation and ran, on his own, through what was quickly becoming a hazardous, dangerous place. This sheltered perfect city set alight, all the stories and history, the late night drinking sessions with friends. He ran for hours through the violence, before arriving where the soldiers had been held up in the fighting. Freignor was the only one from the commercial district to arrive, and with a break in the relentless assault they’d sustained endlessly since the Reapers arrived, the defenders had to take the opportunity to leave, having already accumulated a large group of survivors from the city and massive losses, heading elsewhere and out of New Cirilis. The long walk was backlit by the red flashes of laser-fire from the great walking killing machines, and Freignor offered a prayer to the spirits and watched, pausing every little while to watch before being hurried along, as if giving his parents those few vital seconds to reach them somehow.

The next few days would bring about massive change. Everyone carried a gun, everyone moving away from the cities, everyone leaving the planet as fast as possible. Every few minutes there’d be a new situation where he’d be up close with one of those monsters, and it’d take everything in him to pry it from himself or his fellow man. The skies were getting darker in the middle of summer. Dust was blowing through streets and soon masks needed to be worn to stop breathing in the sheer volume of particles. Particles that consisted of buildings, ash, people. Freignor thought about it less and less over time, for his own sake. Instead he’d choose to focus on picking up equipment on the way, tinkering with weapons and kinetic engineering applications, trying to learn how they worked.

Running and hiding and walking for days, hiding beneath them as they walked across the landscape, hiding beneath buildings and concrete, on a permanent retreat from a fate worse than death that always felt like it was going to find them eventually anyway, which it always did when they stopped for just a little while. The slightest reprieve punishable utterly. Hundreds became one hundred, that became dozens that became a handful, that became him alone for two days. He cursed the stars. Why was he alive, when all these good souls had passed on? Surely they who could make a difference deserved this precious life more than him?

Finally Freignor arrived at the evacuation site and people were still coming, small handfuls from around the area, some alone, like him. The shuttles would arrive in a few hours from their last trip, and as per usual, the Reapers were constantly sieging the area. Immediately, Freignor ran to aid them, armed with a Phaeston rifle and technical abilities he’d picked up along the way, charging into the enemy with his weapon and then his hands, bashing them, biting them, kicking them, throwing everything into those that were attacking the survivors, then throwing everything again, then again and again. Any one of these people could be his parents, his friends. Of the survivors, or the enemy. Anyone. He had to try and save these precious lives that could make some difference.

Eventually, his luck ran out when a sniper bullet blasted through the side of his abdomen and sent him to the ground. The impact floored him and he lay there, waiting. Finally, he thought. Finally, an end. When he came to, he was on Menae, and could watch his home burn from a safe distance. Though he was glad to rest for just a little bit, by the time he was able to walk, he already had his gun in his hands, and set to doing what he could to aid the survivors once more.

By the time the Crucible mission had come around, most of the defenders left to aid the fleet, but many were still left to defend the sensitive equipment left on Menae and manage the automated security set up to defend the facility for at least a little longer, Freignor among them.

The Crucible’s failure meant that the defenders were definitely on a one-way mission this time, and Freignor felt that familiar, warm relief once more. Finally. But luck would have it another way once again, as Grand Inquisitor Aetrius Caltaneus’s letter would reach him and a couple of others, inviting them to join RIFT. Climbing aboard a repaired back-up ship they prepared beforehand, Freignor cursed the stars once more, and left his allies behind.

He now works under Ravanor Zrokor as Apprentice Gunsmith onboard the CSV Caesetia, helping to maintain the impressive collection of weapons onboard.