Xanth wanted to sleep but something in the air told him not to. Something sinister was happening and he could feel it around him, trying to choke him where he sat. Saulus and Kia immediately saw the difference in his stature. They immediately knew something was either coming or happening that wasn't good at all. Xanth sighed stood up and grabbed his weapons to stand at his tents opening. Memories came back to him as he looked at the glow of some of the brush still burning in the distance.
Flashback....55 years before.
"Xanth! Get your stinking arse up here! We don't have all day!" General Xi Lang shouted from the top of a cliff.
Xanth climbed as fast as he could. It took him only a few minutes to reach the top. He was the first of the group to make it to the top. Immediately, he shouldered his rifle to aim around to look for possible ambush points. He kneeled down to look at human slave trader tracks from not too long ago. An hour at most. The rest of the group finally made it up and they saw Xanth already drawing up defensive postitions should anything happen. The difference about this period of time was that something was always bound to happen. Xanth knew this better than anyone. He had enough experience to know how to deal with almost every scenario. Xanth was considered the ghost of the group. Not many approached him because of his squad mortality rate: 5%. A very low number for someone who was exalted by the Recon units of the day. Many wondered how he did the things he did without even flinching, without feeling anything other than apathy. Things that made someone pure soldier and not being. The shell of a Tarian and ghost of anything anyone held dear. That night while everyone was getting rest, Xanth took off to scout and find those who were possibly hunting them. When he returned back, his squad was dead. Even those who were on watch. Xanth sighed, grabbed their dog tags, and swore vengeance. A vengeance that took nearly thirty years to complete.