Milan "Warmark" Mischler

Warmark lay with his back against a rock, recovering from his wounds in the cool shade. A Whirlwind of memories playing through his head, but one always gripped his focus. Ah, yes, he could remember that fated experience......


It was a hot, dry day in newland city, just like every other day of the year. He was tending his little hydropnic farm just outside the city. Milan finished up his long day, gathered his tools, and headed back to hace dinner with his wife and 2 daughters. As he arrived through the gates, he noticed smoke rising from the section of town he lived in. Quickly dropping his gear, Milan ran down the street only to be grabbed by his friend Korros and pulled into an adjoining alley. He struggled at first til he realized who had grabbed him. Korros said nothing but pointed in the direction of Milan's house. Cautiously, Milan looked around the corner to see all of his neighbors standin around watching the small omni patro march his family and line them up along the wall of his smoking house. Then without a word, the patrol aimed and shot all three of them. With a cry of rage, Milan charged around the corner, only to be tackled by Korros and pulled back into the shadows.

Several hours later, he slowly crept to the bodies of his family. He fell to his knees and screamed his rage into the night. "I curse you all, for doing nothing!! Why didn't u do anything??? " yelled Milan as a crowd gathered around to see what the commotion was. They said nothing and went back into their homes leaving him to his grief. Being a poor man, he couldn't afford to have his family insured, so he buried them out in his small farm. He said his goodbyes to Korros and walked off into the desert.


A sound off to Warmark's left woke him from his reverie. He quietly stood up, still not full recovered and faced this next threat.

Warmark sat back down, quietly contemplating the stupidity of OT employees. He then closed his eyes and fell back into his deep healing meditation.....


The first several months were hard on Milan, dodging Skorpoids and Borg Patrols, finding little food and water to sustain him. One day when the sun was particularly hot, he saw a mirage of a man dressed in flowing robes off in the distance, only to find out the scene was all to real. A voice crept through his head that chilled his very bones. "I am simply The Enlightened One but you shall call me master. You will come with me and I will prepare you for your trials ahead." said the man in robes. Milan quietlu obeyed and trudged off after the man, no clue as to what the man was refering to in the days ahead.


3 years later, Lost in meditation, his senses picked up an object coming at him. With a fluid grace that would make a cat jealous, he extended his hand and caught the arrow several inches from his face. "Well done Milan. As of this day you are Milan no longer." said his Master." You shall be called Warmark from this day forth, and i shall teach you the darker arts that come from within that part of your soul you dare not look into." Milan frowned, feeling as if he was moving too fast. but caught up into a whirlwind he could not escape.

After more years of rigorous training, Milan noticed a change in himself, his muscles more defined, his flowing movements, and the hard piercing stare of his gaze. His fighting style was flawless and he felt the darkness in his soul growing, making each kill easier to take. This would have frightened him before, but Milan took comfort in knowing he could kill on a whim, without remorse. And then one day it happened. The enlightened one vanished with only his cold voice whispering in the breeze. "Now go and fight the enemy. Destroy them with all means at your command. But beware with venegence comes a price, and one day you will be no better than them......" was the last thing he heard and then he was utterly alone again.



Warmark awoke suddenly from his meditation, dripping in sweat, and finally noticing the chill of the cold night air. He stood up and stretched, feeling fully healed from his ordeal. He decided to head back to Headquarters, deciding the information he had gathered in the last week was important enough to present to Snarf. Had he not been fully alert, he might not have noticed the sandworm approaching, not that it did him any good. It swallowed him in one gulp and the desert was silent once more.......

The Sandworm lay in the afternoon sun, content after its last meal. Suddenly it started to spasm and a fiery fist burst through one of its eyes, followed by another through the top of its head. Warmark crawled out of the hole, gasping for breath, narrowly being squished to death in the worms death throws. He dragged himself a few feet away from the beast and watched it die. His skin was on fire from the acid in the worm's belly and he just wanted to die.......




Milan had spent many days after the disappearance of his master contemplating what to do. Eventually he decided to travel to Tir and join in the fight with the clans against the Omni Intruders. There he met Mowatx, Madhattress, and the almighty Snarf who welcomed him into their clan and started his revenge against the Omnis. Overtime , he was brought into the inner circle and made an adviser, to help the clan grow and plot schemes against the enemy. He was all to happy to do so.


He awoke suddenly again, aching badly from his wounds. He tried to meditate, but he was unable to find his inner peace to heal his wounds. After searching through his pack, he came across his last medkit, but it only helped a little. He stood up slowly and stretched to remove the aches from his limbs, suceeding a little. Then as he trudged off toward the lights off in the distance he fell back into thought. Why was he he still here? Every step brought more questions he could not answer. Was it worth having revenge on the Omni's and Neutrals that changed his life so long ago? So on he trudged, battered and broken, his powers waning everyday, and his faith severly broken.......

Several days of walking in the desert, did nothing for him, and he felt worse then ever. At last on the horizon he saw the walls of his beloved city. Unfortunately , a small borg patrol was heading towards him, and his spirits sunk even lower. "This is what it ends with..." he muttered under his breath. The patrol spotted him and surrounded him, the click of their weapons loading as they gathered echoing in his ears.

"Human Scum" roared the colonel as it stood glowering down at him. "Your a long way from those walls boy. You think you could make it if we gave u a head start?" stated the large cyborg as the rest of the patrol chuckled at his plight.
Warmark closed his eyes and began to focus on his inner spirit. Suddenly as if a force had awoken in him, an aura of power surounded his body and forced him into action. His right hand came up, smashing the optical sensors from the patrol leader, rendering him blind. Before the rest of the patrol could react, Warmark was among them, kicking and striking like a force of nature. Several breaths later, teh fight was over, Warmark standing in the center, with barely a scratch showing to prove he was in the fight to begin with. He stared at his hands, a slight aura surrounding them, and for the first time since he could remember, a smile crept upon his face......