'Of all the wars and all the worlds. I had to fetch up here... again.' Ardashir had become somewhat introspective and prone to muttering to himself of late. It had only been a few months since he had ordered an air strike on a position held by Nova English Commandos in Woodstania. Which would have been fine except that by an unfortunate coincidence, mainly deriving from being kidnapped by the aforementioned Nova English Commandos, he had been standing in proximity to the blast, and to be honest, although his forces had still gone on to win the Circum-Raynor War, he still felt a bit rough. By rights Ardashir should have been in the fiery abyss roasting gently for all eternity in the delightful company of Ahriman and his gibbering army of demons, however he had found himself instead still very much alive at the wars end, in spite of being rather dead for much of it. Ardashir suspected, although he didn't quite know how, that Ryan Caruso had vetoed his admission to hell.
In the meantime something had happened to Babkha, it had vanished from the face of Micras and the CIS freaks had taken over instead. Parestan was now the 'Euran testicle' and things had generally gone down hill on that continent. Ardashir decided against returning to the land of his birth. Getting an exit visa to planet Giess had unfortunately proved impossible. The Hurmuan customs official had taken an almost malicious pleasure in informing Ardashir that since he was dead his papers were no longer in order and he could not be permitted to seek transit via the gate. The late Shah of Babkha was trapped on Micras and would have to make the most of it.
Having spent a month or two living incognito in the sleazy shantytown outside Nafticon, visiting whorehouses and gin joints and supplementing a meagre income derived from working in a convenience store by forging pornographic playing cards featuring prominent politicians in the Antican Republic Ardashir felt that it was time to move on, especially when the police started looking for the creator of the widely circulated photo of Octavius being fisted by Delphi.
So it came to pass that Ardashir got himself aboard an Alexandrian tramp steamer and made his way to New Brittania. It has to be said that owing to a little misunderstanding he had thought himself on his way to Red Brittania, where he was going to have it out with David Redstone. Upon finding himself not in a workers paradise but a feudal tyranny Ardashir instantly relaxed and felt right at home. There were even Matbaics walking about the place he could pick fights with. If it wasn't for the lack of sand and camels, and the fact he could no longer openly murder people on a whim, Ardashir could have been at back at home. All he needed now was some money and a decent place to live. Curiously being responsible for the death of quite a few Brittanians in the Circum-Raynor War had actually done his reputation quite a favour in Brittania, for as an indirect consequence of the war King Jeremy had been able to double cross Matbaa and take full control of the UCS. As a consequence Ardashir found himself both sitting in the Brittanian House of Lords and also a Commander in its army. The irony, as the Zatriarch of Matbaa would put it, was delicious.
Unfortunately, with power comes responsibility, no matter how hard one tries to avoid it, and so it was that Ardashir found himself aboard the HMNBS Melton gazing towards the delta of the mighty river that once led all the way to the mysterious and now long vanished land of Karnali.
Ardashir's Life on Micras [Irrelevant Backstory]
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Ardashir's Life on Micras [Irrelevant Backstory]
Babkhan - Quite literally not of this world.