Editing Campaign:Anarchy Group Omega/Full Moon (section)

==== Pre-Exaltation====
	500 years before the Ursurpation, a boy was born in the South. He was not royalty, but his parents were important mortals in the lower government of the kingdom and the boy was given the best education his parent's money could buy.

	The boy was bored by the painting and music lessons, and by the history and math lessons. He found himself more at home in the outdoors or social gatherings. The boy, named the Loveless Wanderer of a Thousand Roads, always enjoyed parties. It wasn't exactly the socializing, just the atmosphere. He liked watching people talk and dance, judging which ones he liked the most before talking to them.

	However, when not attending parties or political functions, something he also enjoyed, because he was quite the good speaker; he spent all his time outdoors. Horseback riding, sailing, hunting; anything that would get him dirty and injured was a good thing. He spent some time in the military before leaving for politics, where he proved quite popular. During one of the small and insignificant wars the Exalted paid no attention to, the ones fought almost as sport, Wanderer did the only sensible thing a young politician could do. He went to war. Unfortunately, he was assigned to a squad that wasn't very good, to say the least. He quickly found himself detached from the rest of the army, and hunted by a small battalion of troops. 

	Three men fell in the initial attack, two more to dehydration, and one was lost when they were found for the first time. This left only two people left; Wanderer and his commander. The two survived in the harsh deserts on snakes and lizards, scrounging what water they could; however little. When trying to catch one of these snakes, the commander got bit. As he lay dying a short while later, he handed Wanderer the badges of his rank; giving him a field promotion to captain. For all that was worth, he joked. 

	The captain died, and Wander salvaged anything he could from the captain's pack. He didn't like it, but it had to be done. Some o the most valuable things in the pack where some firedust grenades. They were old, and the primers were probably expired, but he took them anyway. 

	He spent the next two and a half days in a hole he had dug, covered in sand; hoping that he wasn't exposed at all, and if he was, hoping the sand coloured clothing was enough to deter his discovery. The hole was not very far from an oasis, one he had stumbled upon with the captain. They saw their pursuers drinking from it, so they hastily retreated. He dug it right before sundown, when the sand was still slightly warm. The young man hoped to all the gods that would listen he would not be found.

	He wasn't. So he sat in the hole for two and and a half days, listening to the sounds of the desert for the enemy unit. Eventually, just around the hottest portion of the day, he heard them. Wanderer waited until he was just right, and then pulled the trigger of his firewand; the barrel of which was the only exposed part of him and his gear. 

	The fire hit the trap perfectly, the grenades exploding in an inferno of flame. Wasting no time, he drug himself up from the sand, and readied his bayonet for all the survivors. There were none. He sat down, falling back into his hole. Wanderer stayed there, eyes closed, for what seemed like forever. He was struck from his revelry by a voice. “Are you going to check to make sure they're all there? They might have been just a small party sent for water.”