"[i]Centurion, you're with me. Remember we're Legion - Let the Marines be the nice guys, if anything looks aggressive you give it a third eye. Clear? Good, let's roll." The Legion moved in silence first, village survivors cowered in sight at the coming troops thinking that they had a hand in it as they skulked through the buildings. Those that stayed put would be passed, those that tried to act as a hand of vengeance foolishly had a round of ionised plasma striking into them. The team moved with efficiency and speed, one soldier dressed in cloaks of black entering each of the houses and clearing it in minutes. The one common tactic amongst the stealth crew was their speed and efficiency, none had been near the windows and all moved in complete silence. Those that recognized them knew them by a common title - Legionnaires. And where a Legion patrol went, there was a fair chance that the Grand Legate followed. While his men skulked through the bloodied walls and waded through the indoor corpses, Treyman was occupied elsewhere. His rifle was raised to the pair in he centre of the town and he took cautious steps ahead, the white gun in his hands flickering every so often between the two. Unlike the rest of his men, Treyman didn't wear a black cloak on his body, rather he bore a hooded cape with a black and orange tiger stripe look, with a bronze and gold painted exosuit beneath. From the looks of it, he lived up to the old Roman standards with brass muscles imprinted on the armour. His face remained hidden behind an orange mask, though that was more for the intimidation factor as opposed to the face hiding. He certainly was flashy, but most of his weapons were rather well concealed. "Drop the sword, lass. And cosplayer, staff goes on the ground." [/i]