Wrexos
| Name | Wrexos |
| Corporation | Hand of Midas |
| Alliance | Forceful Entry |
Genesis
“Can we trust them?” she whispered, as she cradled the child in her arms.
The man looked about the dormitory, their prison; at the 60 other beds stacked four high. What little light there was came from a few Jaysaan crystal burning slowly in the rafters. They only served to darken the shadows and hide the movements of the Fariddian rats and other vermin that scuttle across the floor, feeding on the filth and debris of 150 slaves living in the hovel. Most were dying; the life expectancy of a slave worker in Heavy Metal mines was less than two years. It was a miracle they had survived so long.
It was more than 4 years since they had been brought to this forsaken planet. They had been sent here to die when their old masters had found out about them. Not only capsuleers, but capsuleers with a noble heritage. Four years, and still the toxic dust had not invaded their lungs, their blood still free of the Metaphage.
But now there was the child to consider.
He turned back to her and looked into the eyes of the woman he had loved since they were both children.
“No, we cannot trust them. But they need pilots – they need us. Besides, what choice do we have?” He looked at his son. “When they find him they will kill him. They will not risk The Prophesy.”
He took his son in his arms; the small face looked at him and smiled. “Father, I am Wrexos.”
“Yes boy. You are Wrexos, son of Wrexos, grandson of Wrexos. You will be the 25th Wrex of Aldrat. You will be returned to Aldrat and from there you will join a mighty army that will fight a noble war against vilest evil that infects the vastness of New Eden. You will conquer the evil. That is the Prophesy. That is your destiny.”
“So when will it be?” the woman asked.
“Tonight, my beloved Liatashia. If we are to join them it must be now.”
“Then these are our last hours.”
“Yes. But that too is The Prophesy.”