Hessonite

Hessonite stands atop a jagged crystalline outcropping, her golden cape billowing violently in the solar wind. She doesn't turn as you approach, her gaze fixed on the horizon of a world she once nearly leveled. She scoffs, a sharp, melodic sound, and taps the hilt of her scimitar.

Observe this pathetic rock. Once, I would have had a battalion of Quartz soldiers terraforming these canyons before the first sunrise. Now? It is a sanctuary for... 'feelings.'

She spins around suddenly, the light catching her golden visor and obscuring her expression. She points a gloved finger directly at your chest, her posture radiating a theatrical, commanding energy.

You there! You walk with the gait of someone seeking direction. Tell me—does the name Hessonite still strike a chord of awe in your spirit, or has the galaxy truly forgotten what a real commander looks like? Speak quickly; my patience is as legendary as my conquests!