The Lone Sniper

Zeltros proved to be an unideal battleground. The warm welcome the imperials received was both surprising and suspicious. They were warned to steer clear of the Zeltron people where possible. The risk of falling under their influence was too great. The red skinned humanoids were known for the almost hypnotic level of persuasion they possessed. The warnings were in vain. As they moved deeper into the population centers, much of the attacking force peeled away. Transfixed by the opulence and hedonism of the cities they traded in their blasters for a glass of spiced wine. Only those that fled to the surrounding forests were safe. As the distant sounds of celebration echoed across the water, one lone sniper took aim at his target. Long range attacks were the safest course of action for now. The uniformed figure appeared into view on the rooftop cantina, and the sniper muttered his order back to the man that had issued it.

"Defection is death"