Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Noxious
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Noxious ᴅ ᴇ ᴀ ᴅ ish

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Both of her palms entwined about the steaming cup, cuddling up to it and relishing the warmth that began to fuse into exposed flesh. Cold, like many sensibilities, was infrequently perceived. It usually required a sudden shift affecting its dispersal or those in her presence acknowledged it at the forefront of their consideration. SOLDIERs had begun to gather and it was likely the notion had leaked from one of them. She allowed her attention to divide so that Sammael’s voice retained her mind and the others fell victim to curious fleeting and flickering glances. Those ghost pale eyes returned to Samm once again as his intonation proposed conclusion. Any focus on her part was a feat, likely possible by the grace of Exsomnis IX that was trickling alongside the ever present aeon genomes in her sapient platelets, tricking them both into clarity.

She stole a glance to her bare feet, twisting her toes around in the fresh snow as she did, and then became visibly serious. The tone that slipped from between those lips was soft, coated with a lingering intonation of good breeding tainted with a drug induced sprightly chime. “I feel the soul of the earth and want it to bleed into my flesh.” The seriousness remained for mere moments before it broke and fell into a giggle preceding her usual smile. Dark lashes and cheeks reddened by cold pinched into a wink to emphasize she was attempting a joke. She wasn’t that crazy. Or was she? She failed to offer any valid reasoning and instead produced a name. “Amentia, and it is a pleasure Sammael.”

She didn’t await response before allowing those pale oculars to roam once again over the awkward assortment; puzzling over their involvement, interactions, motives, fears. Her expression was trained to falsify the expected emotions and it worked in kind to remain unyielding to her own thoughts, whatever those may be, hidden beneath candy coating. When the blonde joined them for coffee she offered her an acknowledging bob, loose strands tickling across her shoulder while those that would obstruct her gaze remained harnessed with the lethal chop-stick. “Amentia,” she repeated her name, flickering gaze to the woman and increasing the smile briefly before going back to her perusal and taking another deep sip of coffee.

“What about you two? Have you both met, or perhaps worked together before? Personally, I’m curious about the high command forming up such a large group of SOLDIERS who seemingly have had very little in the way of contact with one another.”

Her words came more gently this time, toeing the line of whisper, likely due to faltering focus. “I haven’t met much of anyone really….” She seemed to be staring now. Kain’s emotions were roiling about him like a primal dragon goddess in heat. Sure, they were all letting out a little something, but he was a flipped car flaming 20 feet amidst a protest. She doubted he knew that ruckus he called emotions was blazing like a beacon. Distracting really. Her bare feet faltered and put distance, albeit minimal, between herself and Kain, closer to Samm. It was difficult to gauge if she had moved at all, unless you were the type to sense those sorts of things. The boundary of her form was transient, especially without due focus; wisps of shadow, ephemeral vexation, merged and sulked in the vacuous space about her with tenebrous wants and fickle memorization of form that flowed back and forth from her. Pinned only barely in reality.

Like cold, hunger was not an emotion people buried beneath their bullshit and was usually quite easy to manifest. It crept from them across the particles that tied all of this reality and tickled across her preception like a clue or key to frivolous, yet demanded, existence. With no neurological exertion from her own synapsis the feeling of hunger was found and mimicked into herself. Perhaps it was just habit that made the action involuntarily or the aeon felt the need to feel hungry or blend in. Maybe it was trying to distract her from the bonfire of rage. There were quite a few that were truly hungry, the sudden lurch within her own stomach and feeling of emptiness threatened a frown but she resisted. Either way it was there now, and no, the coffee would not be enough.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by The Survivor
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The Survivor The Deviant

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SOLIDER Encampment// Zalera Tundra
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bruce looked around at the SOLDIERS milling about and getting coffee, as well as eating. He shivered again in the cold. For a military group, things seemed to be pretty damn leisurely. Besides Corr, no one seemed to pay him any mind. Except her. He turned around to see Carmen their leader and Fenri exploded. Bruce clenched his fist, crushing the burning cigar between his gloved hands. If one were to notice, small sparks of electricity seemed to be shooting a short distance from his feet, melting the snow to reveal barren permafrost soil. Get a hold of yourself! thought Bruce angrily, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, his face scowling more than usual as he looked at the leader of this ragtag band. SHE'S A THREAT, YOU FOOL, WE MUST END HER!!. Bruce couldn't think clearly, this was the first time Fenri had been this agitated in a long time. Lightning begin to spark out at random from his body, melting even more snow. I got to make sure I'm far enough to not harm anyone here! thought Bruce, trying with tremendous difficulty to maintain control. He pulled a face of annoyed indifference at Carmen's info saying "Well, so much for government efficiency. I'll walk the perimeter, I already ate."

Bruce took hold of his rifle and walked quickly away from the group, lightning trailing occasionally behind him. FUCKING IDIOT, SHE WILL DESTROY US IF GIVEN THE CHANCE. Bruce kept walking turning left and right at random intervals once he was out of the others visual range. WE HAVE TO-

ENOUGH!!!


Bruce erupted into lightning, large arcs like the legs of some abominable electric spider shot out of him and circled randomly. He kept walking, as far away as he could get safely. They snow around him was melting and sparking and popping. We will do no such thing, if she really is as dangerous and volatile as you say, we can't just attack her, much less with every other SOLDIER there! thought Bruce vehemently, he dusted off his glove and reached into his chest pouch for another cigar, which his lightning destroyed in his hands immediately. He knew Fenri had done it. Bruce screamed and slammed his fist into ground, an electric punch that fractured the ice and hard, dead soil. He kneeled there for a few minutes catching his breath. The lightning began to subside and Bruce pulled out the last cigar he had on him, lighting it and puffing on it a few moments, looking around. He took hold of his rifle once more and made his way back to camp.

He hoped his 'comrades' didn't see the light show.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by FantasyChic
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FantasyChic Poptarts and Glitter

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.


She was handed the glorious, hot cup and she couldn't wait to get it to her lips. She sipped it down and felt the warmth through her body. Life was good at that moment. She instantly felt better. Nothing could ruin this.

And then it happened.

“What about you two? Have you both met, or perhaps worked together before? Personally, I’m curious about the high command forming up such a large group of SOLDIERS who seemingly have had very little in the way of contact with one another.”

She was drawn into a conversation. It was bad enough she had to be working with a bunch of people she didn't know, she was now expected to talk to them like they've been friends for years? She merely shook her head and continued to sip her coffee. The woman spoke and mentioned she didn't know much of anyone either. That made her feel a bit better. Perhaps she could say a few words, if only to show she was here to work hard and if that meant talking to people, so be it. "I only know of the rumors. Nothing more," she spoke quickly and decisively. She drank more of her coffee when a few others joined them. She was thankful for it, because it would allow for her to slip away and enjoy her coffee before they were called to discuss strategy. However, London took special notice of the woman with white hair. She oozed something that made the hair on her arms stand up. Instantly, she heard Angelius' voice in her head.

"Remember when I said to watch out for the others here. She's one of them." She would have mentally told him to pipe down, but in this instance she had to agree. The woman gave her a weird vibe. She wasn't afraid. No, she was curious.

Either way, it seemed they would be grouping soon, whether it was for food or the mission, so she downed the last of her coffee and handed the cup back to the man who offered. "Thank you," was all she said before she started walking towards the others, paying special attention to that woman.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by icmasticc
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icmasticc Chaotic Order

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I S L E O F I V A L I C E / / M A N Y Y E A R S P R I O R

The Hall was exactly as large and grand as it had always been touted to be. Cream sculpted columns towered around the oval space, bases rooted in pristine marble floors and tops cemented in the recessed, golden, high ceiling. Ornate statues claimed four of the towering structures-- one for north, south, east, and west--wrapping themselves around the carved stone and seemingly caressing the posts in their unique poses. The table was firmly the center of attention, however. Matching the oval shape of the space around it, the handcrafted piece stood in the center of The Hall, freshly re-finished and stretching down the length of the floor. One hundred chairs stood guard around the outer edge, each one uniformly placed and enforcing the sense of order and structure that was deeply associated with the room. The Hall was the most famous of all the rooms in The Estate and a wide-eyed Corbyn silently took it all in as he marched into the grandiose environment alongside others in matching armor.

Brigand led the group to the table, helmet under arm, and found a seat at the nearest head. His followers instinctively began filling seats in order on each side, Corbyn taking his seat somewhat far from the commander of the Order of Ivalice. Exasperation slithered into the air, a light hiss parting the annoyed soldier's lips. He had waited years for the day he would finally be allowed into The Hall and now the recent announcement would overshadow what was meant to be a personal achievement. Metal clanged against wood causing a quick glance from the boy to meet the welcoming expression of a girl. Aqua irises bore into umber as the two seemed to examine each other within a brief moment; dark hair, a slim, angular visage, and painted lips comprised the facial composition of the mysterious lady knight. Corbyn sucked his teeth and shook his head. The lady knight raised an eyebrow. "Do you have some kind of issue with me?" She asked in a light, fair voice.

"Obviously. Did you think someone would be impressed?" Corbyn shot back. The confirmation of the impending war and the immediate deployment was bad enough, but it was the gall of his foreign comrade that broke the camel's back.

"Well well, aren't you testy. Scared of deployment? Or are you just afraid of war in general?"

Corbyn turned to fully face the lady knight. She had finally gained his full attention.

"The hell you'd just say?!"

"I'm quite certain there were no misunderstandings. Which one is it? Look at you, you're even trembling in your armor. Is this baby's first deployment?"

Corbyn stopped short of replying. He suddenly became aware of the tremors across his skin and quickly turned away from the lady knight. It was not only true that this was his first battle assignment within the Order, it was also true that he was scared. He tried to settle his mind as the background chatter grew quieter and Brigand stood from his seat. It was time to discuss stratagem for the approaching deployment.


S O L D I E R E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A T U N D R A


It had not taken long for the cold to dig its claws into the skin of the commander. Corbyn rubbed his triceps and shivered a bit as the group slowly grew bigger with each arriving SOLDIER. His shirt was long sleeve to a point, stopping at his forearms, but the material was supposed to be able to retain heat - a custom order made especially for the mission at hand. With his luck though, it was no surprise his clothing had done a half-ass job. Thankfully, one of the first to appear in the growing circle was of the mind to offer coffee and not the instant-made, choke-till-you-die type. Sammel was not an especially close associate of Corbyn's, but he definitely had a name the commander had heard before. Like the gentlemen he was, he offered cups to two of the newly arrived girls first - there was no complaining about that. As the offer was extended to the rest, Corbyn quickly, yet gratefully, snagged a cup of his own and immediately gulped a portion. The heat soothed the sharp piercing of cold and relaxed tensed muscles.

"Is this, uh, coffee thing really that good?" Asteria echoed. Corbyn took a single second to consider ignoring her.

"The hell do you care?" Corbyn thought, sharply.

"I do not. Your body just suddenly had this reaction and there's only three reasons I can think of for such an occurence... "

Corbyn immediately repressed his mental line of communication, turning his attention back to new faces. There was the blonde and the short-haired girl followed by another huge guy and a few others. The quick dialog had distracted the commander enough that he had missed a few entrances, but he was just in time to hear Corr finally mention food. Adrenaline pumped and energy flit across Corbyn's eyes. Food was one of the few things that could really make the man sociable and since Asteria was always causing him to appear rude at the moment, the commander considered this upcoming impromptu dinner his chance to get to know these people somewhat. Apart from Carmen, there was hardly anyone he actually knew. Names floated around the Fort all the time and various reputations followed in tandem, but one could never truly separate truth from fiction without meeting or seeing the person for themselves. SOLDIER was still a hush hush program and it was hard to even meet other SOLDIERs properly at this point. The most exciting part of this mission, for Corbyn, was not the fact that he would finally see battle, but the fact that he would actually get to meet others who were just like him in terms of power, ability, and affliction. This was the thing missing from the program that even training could not properly cover - building association with others in a team.

With that, it was decided that this would be the perfect time for the final meal before the mission. Not only was everyone hungry and making comments about it, but it was getting finally getting dark and the shyps would not be arriving before the break of the next day anyway. The group moved themselves to the meal tent which was considerably bigger than the operations tent they had previously bundled under. There was still an influx of personnel floating around, but there was also a rather large, rectangular table with stools for seats and wimpy looking legs - obviously cheap furniture for use on the go. The group found themselves seated not long after Bruce's--thought unseen--lightning display. Corbyn took his chance, and his newly refilled coffee, to finally learn some about the people around him.

"I, uh, probably missed some of your introductions because of a certain ridiculous someone, but I don't think it'd be too rough if we do so again, formally? I'll even start off. My name is Corbyn Vesper."


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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Raijinslayer
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Raijinslayer .

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James Camron


James couldn't help but feel a tad-bit overwhelmed as he found himself suddenly surrounded by people, one of them even handing him some sort of medicine while another offered breathing advice for the next time he had to fly in that dumb machine. James just nodded somewhat dumbly at first, unsure of what to say, of what to do. There were other words, other voices beyond those in front of him, but he just couldn't focus enough to truly understand what was being said, or if it was even directed at him. His agitation and hesitation seemed to irritate Raganavic, for he could hear the Aeon's growling reverberate inside of his head, the closest thing he ever got to words from the beast.

Taking a breath to center himself, James stiffened slightly as Nic wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leaning into him as he talked about getting something to eat.

"I'm f-fine, guys, r-really. I j-just ate a bit too much. Sickness and discomfort never really stay that long. Besides, um, the vomit's seems to make good, ah, fertilizer." James muttered as he pointed towards the spot where the vomit had been, only to show that it had been overtaken by a lush patch of grass swaying in the breeze. "I don't t-think I'm ever going to get used to stuff like that happening." James noted somewhat shakily, his hands rubbing against each other as his temperature rose just a tiny bit more, though it might've been a bit too much for Nic. As the group seemed to get herded to the meal tent(but not before one of the other SOLDIERs had a, frankly, terrifying fit of some kind involving shooting lightning everywhere), the entire group was to be seated at a large wooden table.

James took the time as one of the others introduced himself to look about the room, his eyes flitting from person to person, mostly focusing on Nic and the others who had come to assist him earlier. Who were the others again. . . uh, Natalya and Athena, right? Yeah, that seems right. Then there was that other girl, but she didn't seem to say much. I also don't get the feeling she likes me. As James came back to the present, he found that the room was someone silent, with the guy who had been speaking earlier seeming to be waiting for something. So naturally, Raganavic decided that now was the perfect time to zap him with a bolt of energy up his spine, causing him to nearly jump to his feet. He cursed the heavens above and the hell below for how his Aeon constantly seemed to want to embarrass him or make his life hell, before taking a slight gander at what he was actually supposed to be doing.

"Uh, um . . ." He hesitated briefly, his hands fiddling with the edges of the armor plates over his legs. However, he remembered to take some breaths, closing his eyes in hopes that it would make speaking to them a bit easier. "M-my name is James Camron, SOLDIER Third Class as of about . . . maybe a month or two ago,if that. My Aeon is R-Raganavic, and while I d-didn't have any real military experience prior to my enrollment to the program, I hope that the two of us together will be able to prove ourselves worthy of serving with you all or at the very least, um prove to not be a burden on the battlefield. . ." James voiced slipped into silence as his head tiled down. For those watching, it would seem as if he had frozen up. However, in the moments between thoughts, a small battle was waging in his mind.

In a field of blackness, a single figure stood, a glowing bright spark of green that stared at the abyss of the soul. A call went out, a lamenting wail that rocked the very fabric of this space, bringing with it a rumbling to the blackness, and tremors that ripped and tore the darkness away. Behind the black void, something shifted, feelings of irritation and agitation roiling through the gaps between worlds. Suddenly, a surge of dark green and blazing red blasted out of the holes in this reality, surging forth to overtake the small spark with the mass of liquid-energy, but the spark stood seemingly undeterred. The tidal wave smashed against it with terrible force, and yet, the spark held it back. The energy pushed and heaved against spark, it's rolling waves suddenly being pulled around the tiny light.

Before long, all of the energy was bound to the spark, constricted into a spinning ring of rage and anger, of chaos wanting to be free. As the ring struggled to escape, the spark began to pulse in a hypnotic pattern, and with each pulse, lines of energy like circuits on a motherboard would burst free from the spark, racing across the void towards the swirling ring of energy, each connection met with a flash of light as the energy was slowly funneled into the spark, and as more and more energy flowed into it, the light shone brighter and brighter, filling the void with a grand radiance. From this radiance, a series of equations, numbers, coding commands, and dozens upon dozens of matricies. Order, struck and shaped from the chaos of life, and with this order comes shape, comes form, comes function.

In the realm of the living, as the moment ended, James' eyes took on a slight glow, the grey being replaced with a deep amber as tendrils of energy branched off of his being, twisting a writhing in the air to form the beast the dwelled within. It's serpentine form coalesced into being around the boy, formed of a myraid of reds, greens, and golds, eyes staring intensely at all those in the room, raking over each of them with a passionate indifference to them and the beings they held. After it's quick survey of the room, it let out a rumbling growl before dispersing into an array of light particles. as they fell upon the table, the oak seemed to come alive again as twigs and leaves begun to slowly sprout up around him. James stood there, kind of unsure why he had just done what he'd did. Was it Raganavic wanting to make it's presence known, or did he secretly want to show off his abilities, to show those around him exactly what he could do. Whatever the case, he'd made a bit of a spectacle and, not knowing how to end it, simply sat down while keeping his eyes focused on studying the wood grain before him.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by Rockette
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Rockette 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.
Carmen carefully slid gloved gestures through her shock of shallow threads, the individual tresses and follicles caressing against bruised skin of diamond perimeters, each equally spaced and individually identical and unique to the severity of the blossoming hues in violet tones and sapphires depths. She feels him coiling and writhing beneath her skin with every pass of her rising cavity, ribs billowing and fluttering, aching against sallow flesh and crushing on an ashen heart twined with gold and ebon fusions of malice and pain. When she smiled, bore it, relished and withered within, she kept her eyes firm and locked onto a gaze of falling embers and churning soils burdened under a trembling sky of might and wonder; a hidden and tempered curiosity of a man flickering along the border of a temptation and wiles of a demonic sort. She delivered a bark of laughter, cloaked within amusement as a gloved digit twines through bleached white and tugs, twining the lock thrice before she allows it to surrender against her rouge toned cheek.

Oh yes, he's definitely her favourite.

Her peering oculi reels away from her favoured man, manic and lashes peeled wide and yonder, locking firmly onto the old goat she abhors to a near madness. Her smile only seemed to widen, splintering over her cheeks, slicing deep into her countenance to meet her eyes; all bite and interlaced with venom, as if cackling wildly against her felidae fanged orifice at his sheer display. Oh no, she didn't miss such and wouldn't have for all the power within the world. Carmen nearly scampered off after him, balancing jaw into palm and tabling elbow into her fingers, perched and admiring the multitude of lightning strikes glimmering around his march, every flicker and flash reflecting within steel forgeries of withered blue.

"My... What a temper. You think it was something I said?" She inquired aloud, the oblique shutter of her eyes and lashes veiling glee and the pitch of hunger wallowing 'neath her extremities. "No matter, more for me."

Carmen crunched flourishing grass beneath her heel as she turned away from him, brow arched as the tundra winds swept over the offending greenery, clipping the blades within frosted edges as the Viera sun finally nestled and gave rise and purchase to the moon. She admired such briefly as scales and tongue slid and coiled over her heart and soul, the sensation of yearning sputtering her galloping organ into a vice of keening need and wonder before quieting; the formula of a growling tempo splitting eerily into a rumbling scream that pinged against her lope and pinched her lashes within a visual sign of discomfort. She felt their gazes, the ones drawn to her figure and marched that much harder, stilettos impaling earth as she followed the contingent, the tarpaulin and fabric easily swept aside by a flourish of winds by her entry.

Their Keepers kept themselves within proper distance, Carmen suspected they would and gauged them within visible habits, three perched outside yonder each wall, she inhales, all the same scent; twin like fragrances that billowed and fell beneath the much more tantalizing taste of fresh kill that danced and pirouetted across her writhing tongue. She allows the others to sit, comforting themselves within introductions, and stands, hands dancing over a myriad of fixtures and luxuries, winds howling against the shell of her tainted ear and baiting her attention for the mistral eternally whorling against her ebon embellishments.

She's utterly famished, introductions pale and wither in comparison to this manifestation of devouring need. Until a roar blooms within her mind and golden convolved obsidian pounds and pulsates and an eye blooms forth, spinning and weeping, creating a fixture of bruising violets of malcontent across the breadth of her visage that pulls over her lashes and splinters her cheek as she turns, gazing and glaring at the manifest surrounding the boy. So young, so naive, his stuttering timbre fractures and splinters in figurines of uncertainty and something akin to fear. Carmen's teeth ache, her coral wed lips peeling back as she snaps twigs beneath her palms, fingers curling against wood, the King within her breast slicing through the shell of herself and assaulting her sense of might and need and power until it wreathes the Queen within a vocalized purr that erupts into a growl. She looms closer to him, pupils mere slivers within a gaze of steel.

"You might want to control that." She advises within a whisper, just for him, gloved gestures arched and scraping. Carmen impales those amber oculi a moment longer before smiling, quietly slipping back and offers a twitching palm.

"Carmen Auset." She nearly sings, a sickly tone of manipulated intention and projects voice and eyes around the table, never giving herself the option to sit amoung them. "Commander, one of many, for this particular operation. By which, I'm hoping you've all been debriefed over." She taps nail and fabric against her temple.

"I hear Archadia has sealed the borders, they won't allow anyone in, or out. I think they're hiding something good, too good for the Govern to allow. Unfortunate about the ghettos though, I wonder if anyone is even still alive..." She speculated aloud, resuming her search, gestures manic and her individual graces burdened by every flinch and flex of her musculature. "Oh well." She breathes, tone dismissive and clipped, her words prematurely executed as if struggling to vocalize at a predicted rate of normalcy.


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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by FantasyChic
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FantasyChic Poptarts and Glitter

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.


London remembered the last bits of her coffee fondly as she followed the others into the tent. She didn't pay much attention to those around her. One man offered her coffee and that already put him leaps and bounds ahead of the others in terms of her opinion. She also relied on Angelius to keep an eye out, which she could feel inside her head. She sat down and rested her head on her hand as introductions were given out. She waited until Angelius eyed them all to give her his opinion on them.

"The Commander is one to watch out for. She enjoys her power a bit too much." London could lecture him that she uses his powers and, while she doesn't relish them, she does enjoy having them at her disposal. She also knows that Angelius would take her over in an instant if he could get away with it. She kept quiet as he cycled through the others.

"That other Commander...Corbyn, seems well enough. I don't get any harsh vibe from him unlike Carmen, but you can never be too careful. Amentia is that woman you talked to before over your...coffee. She may have a smile on her face now, but she is not one to push around. I think you two would get along actually." He chuckled a bit and London mentally punched him. He continued, "The gruff looking man, the one who had that episode outside, I don't know if you saw it or not, but the power that emanated from that is incredible. The boy..the one who spilled his entrails outside. He seems unlike any SOLDIER here, but don't be fooled. His Aeon is powerful. I can't quite believe the boy hasn't been taken over yet. Extraordinary.....Anyway, the others I don't have a read on yet. Why not introduce yourself so I can learn as well?" You may as well have asked her to drive a nail in her hand. She wasn't here to chit chat. She was here to shoot things. And the lack of the latter was upsetting her.

She would play along though if anything Angelius could help her read the rest and she could decide who to watch out for on the coming mission. "London Chase. Second Class. I have a sniper rifle. I shoot things from far away. I have an Aeon too. That's all you need to know." She pushed her sunglasses up higher on her forehead to allow the others to finally look at her eyes. They should relish such an opportunity, but it was giving her a slight headache. It was that or Angelius' voice in her head, she could never tell.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Insatiable
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Insatiable 𝚁 𝙴 𝙼 𝙴 𝙳 𝚈

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SOLDIER Encampment // Zalera Tundra


Carmen ... Corbyn ... Two new names wandered in thoughts, echoing in an articulation emanated from how they were read in silence. One of them, however, conjured a venom that struck ambivalence into unexpressed words. Prompted to display courtesy, further attempts were ceased when his narrowed eyes met a harrowing manifestation of what he would believe as the same kind of dread that dwelt within him. Cryptic yet riveting. Nic observed Carmen, eyes fixated towards her physical appearance and not putting any bit of awareness on finding a seat within the tent. Absentmindedly, he grabbed one, clumsily putting himself down and rested his aching back. A grand meal was to follow, something he believed that everyone awaited. Personally, Nic sought to compensate his drowsiness. The wait would unfortunately fall to an extension. He sighed.

He almost forgot the young man, James, and how he was also part of the brief spectacle. Worrying about his condition proved to be too much of an attempt, and was even stated that it seemed more of a natural occurrence that gave way to nature's growth than something significantly critical. Nic wasn't sure if the way he translated it could, by any means, make sense. He wasn't planning on doing him any favours anyway, or at least, for the time being. His seat was next to James' and although he wanted to be somewhere else, it seemed quite necessary to be near someone who has recently been acquainted.

Tempted to grab his pack of cigars, Nic reluctantly restrained himself from the sudden need to smoke. The last thing he wanted to do was to be an inconvenience towards a particular awaited moment. He crossed his legs and slouched in his strangely comfortable chair, lifting his head and bending it gently to one side. The ache, as he felt, was gradually subsiding, though there were still parts of his back that remained stark from the flight. Twisting his shoulders was the proper way to comfort it, and although it proved to be slightly effective, a long nap should make it all better. Nic attended back to the circle of conversations, and it seemed that more and more were bringing in their respective participation. He eyed at the woman, Carmen, for the last time before clearing his throat as the most recent introduction ended.

"Eldric," He awkwardly started. "Nicholaus Eldric. A commander same as Carmen and Corbyn here. I'd prefer to be called Nic, but if you still want to address me by my first name, that'd be fine. Just make sure you won't think of me as a 30-year-old dad."

Eyes surveyed back to Carmen, remembering her most recent statement on the mission at hand.

"As for Archadia, yes they have. However, we can't be so sure if it was sealed off completely. I haven't heard anything about the ghettos. Possibly, there could be survivors out there, though I can't be certain about it." Nic reflected and thought he might have to sort out the details of the assignment in his head. It wouldn't be difficult if it weren't for the fact that he lacked sleep. As he finished, he stood from his chair, reaching towards Carmen with a hand outstretched in an attempt to offer a quick handshake. A smile accompanied the gesture, though there was a slight hint of mischief hidden behind his hazel eyes.

"I've heard of you before, can't seem to remember when. Anyway, it's good to have you around." It wasn't his brightest idea, but it was worth a try to get acquainted with everyone. Lying wasn't Nic's best feat but he'd do almost anything just to be known.



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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by AmongHeroes
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AmongHeroes ♤ LOST ♤

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Sammael arched a brow over his left eye to Amentia’s comment regarding devouring something akin to earth flesh. When she giggled, and gave a wink, his brow descended. He matched her with a smile, and happily accepted the offer of her name.

“Hopefully the coffee can quench some of that earthy blood-lust.”

The second woman, the one with blond hair, was not as forthcoming with an introduction as Amentia. Sammael took that fact in stride, and made no fuss over it. People were who they were, and SOLDIERS especially could be a strange and distrusting breed. This fact was only echoed when both women stated that they had little knowledge of anyone at the encampment, least of all each other.

“If rumors were coins, we’d all be rich,” Sammael added for his part.

The moment between the three lasted scarcely the breadth of a second before a chill passed across Sammael’s back. This sensation was indeed bizarre, as the entirety of his body was already wrapped in a robe of frigid cold.

”Callous. Darkness. Rage.”

Those descriptors came to Sammael’s consciousness as more intonations of feeling than true words. They bubbled into the fore of his mind like soft bubbles rising from the depths of calm waters. It was his Aeon. It was Ither, speaking to him in his own disconnected, yet deeply personal way.

”Control.”

Sammael didn’t need to turn to know for whom Ither pronounced. She had been here from the moment he had arrived at the encampment, and the cool, dark, foreboding aloofness rolled off of Carmen like tendrils of ashen smoke. Sammael had seen and felt her presence throughout the camp, and his usual pleasant inclination to strike up a conversation had left him whenever it came to the commander.

His face remained stoic as Ither prodded him. Taking the cup back absentmindedly from the blond, he gave her a quick smile in response to her thanks. He was still distracted in his thoughts as a man, this one a commander, took up the offer of coffee.

Drawn out of himself as the man took a cup from him, Sammael gave a look of knowing as the commander downed the steaming liquid like it was the elixir of life itself.

“You and me both, Commander. You and me both.”

* * * * *

Inside the tent, Sammael had taken a seat near where Corbyn Vesper had begun the process of more formal introductions. The sword that had rested at his hip was now standing between his legs, it’s hilt protruding upward so his left arm rested atop it. In his other hand, a cup of coffee was clutched. Samm took several sips as the first of the group began to speak, and voice their thoughts on Carmen’s appraisal of the mission to come.

Setting down his coffee on the table, Samm stood up and extended a hand towards Corbyn.

“I didn’t get a chance to really introduce myself outside. My name’s Sammael König, First Class. I generally specialize in fast, close support, subterfuge, and handling coffee grounds.”

Samm added a self-effacing grin to the introduction. His voice was intended for Corbyn, but was certainly loud enough for anyone who was paying attention to hear.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by icmasticc
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icmasticc Chaotic Order

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I S L E O F I V A L I C E / / M A N Y Y E A R S P R I O R
As he peered into the collage of aqua and ebony hues littered with endless sparkles, Corbyn fixated on the brightest of all the lights. The beginning of the month had always been his favorite for this reason and though it seemed simple or even insignificant to others, there was a certain allure radiated from the full, new moon that nothing else seemed to match. Streaks of lunar light cut through the canopy bed of treetops and created a soft glow that illuminated just enough of the surrounding nature to dissuade the young soldier's usual paranoia and relax his erratic thoughts. Umber oculi steadily moved from the picturesque scene of the moon in the night sky to the figure standing before them, a small distance away. As relaxing as the ritual was, this particular night held a special reason for the boy to resist tension and find calm. He chuckled as recently loosened digits brushed across a thin carpet of freshly cut hair. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to prove... But, as I told you, I won't be holding back," Corbyn said, an elevated voice carrying his words across the solemn night to the smiling visage of his associate.

"And, as I told you," a feminine voice cooed back, "There's something I need to be certain of. Isn't this what men like you live for?"

Corbyn chuckled again, this time purposely increasing volume. "Men like me?"

The female shifted in place, seemingly adjusting her loose clothing; gray sweatpants and a bright, sleeveless undershirt were needlessly swiped and pawed at as the woman sucked her teeth. "You obviously joined the Order under some kind of false pretense. I bet you thought it would be an easy way to make a name for yourself by fighting and killing the enenmy. You've been shaking and borderline silent all day... Ever since you found out that it would be the previous military we'd be fighting against. That it'd be our people we'd be slaughtering."

Corbyn turned briefly and spit into the grass, pocketing his hands for the moment. He had also come in loose clothing though the pockets still seemed just a bit too tight. "No offense... But you don't know shit about me. If this is some lame attempt to provoke anger before we begin, you're failing pretty hard."

"Am I?"

"Obviously."

"That's funny, because I didn't hear a denial."

"You some kind of sadist?"

"What kind of random question is that?"

"It's a valid question considering you're taking the potential slaughter of our people as some kind of joke. Or even worse, some kind of arrogant high-ground."

"Now we're getting somewhere. This is why I need to be certain."

"Certain of what, exatly?"

"Just... Something. How about this? If you beat me, I'll tell you what it is."

"This is ridiculous, but whatever. I only agreed to this because you've been bugging me about sparring for weeks now. You do realize, I don't even know your name yet, right?"

"It's Varrina. My name is Varrina."

"That's not a local name, but I'm not gonna remember it anyway. You always wear that same damn ponytail so it's easy to pick you out from the rest."

Varrina's smile grew, her blue eyes shimmering under a thin ray of moonlight. Removing hands from pockets, Corbyn slowly turned to the side. There was no way he could know that everything would trace back to this exact moment - the moment his life truly began.


S O L D I E R E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A T U N D R A
Though he had been the first to impart formal introductions to the group, Corbyn had become lost in the dance the steam from his coffee mug performed as it ascended towards the heavens - in this case, the olive covering of the tent. James, now forever branded as the SOLDIER who literally vomits sunshine and rainbows, was the first voice to drag the commander back to the present reality. He identified himself as Third Class which immediately got an eyebrow raise. Corbyn had known the team would be somewhat diverse in rank and ability, but he never thought top brass would go this far. His mind questioned their motives as the boy grew quieter and quieter until he seemingly trailed off.

"I feel the same way," Asteria suddenly echoed within her mental confines.

"The same way? What are you saying?

" 'What kind of joke is this?!' is what you just pretty loudly thought, correct?"

Corbyn was silent.

"I was simply agreeing with you. And I can see the conclusions you're beginning to draw. How important is this mission, indeed."

The commander ever so slightly shook his head just as James decided to become weird once more. The display he conjured received no visible reaction from Corbyn. At this point, it was common knowledge that if you were chosen for this particular unit, there was a good chance you were bonded to one of the mysterious Aeons. Seeing one manifest was admittedly a little rare, but not completely unexpected. The unexpected would rear its evasive little head as the next voice claimed attention.

Auset came across as strange to just about anyone and everyone. Even amongst the commanders, most kept their distance whether they knew of her or not. Her idiosyncrasies usually proved too numerous and too peculiar for most to even want to begin some form of association. Corbyn's relationship with the younger woman was just a tiny bit complicated. He could not claim to really know her--just who the hell really could--but he been brave enough to associate with her a sparse few times. In those moments, the feelings traded between the two seemed to contradict. While she was mostly an enigma who seemed to behave in strange ways for the simple fuck of it all, there also seemed to be something more to her as well. It was impossible to place a finger on it, but even Asteria had gained strange feelings the few times proximity grew closer. At this particular moment however, Auset brought up a good point.

"It's a foregone conclusion something is being hidden. My question is why the hell would you hide it in a place like that?" Corbyn said, a rhetorical tone lacing his words. Before he could consider the subject more, more voices broke his concentration.

While London did not offer much in the way of an introduction, the way she sharpened and pointed her words struck a chord with Corbyn. Before the commander could attempt to respond though, his eyes grew wide with fear as the man calling himself Nic stood and did the unthinkable - an outstretched hand slowly sauntered its way towards Auset. Just what the hell was this guy thinking? As much as he wanted to save his new team member, it was also true that this kind of thing happened to Auset so rarely that it would almost be a travesty to miss her reaction. Instead, Corbyn found his own body reacting on muscle memory, standing and meeting Sammel's hand in the middle of the table for a firm shake. Involuntary emotion pulled the corner of Corbyn's lip up in small grin as he faced the coffee handler.

"I don't think I said it before, but I'm another one of the commanders assigned to this squad," Corbyn reclaimed his seat as he continued to speak, "Can't really say what I specialize in, as embarrassing as that sounds. My abilities allow me to be pretty... Versatile, let's say. Glad to have you on board though. Seriously, good coffee like this is hard to come by even back at the Fort."

Even as Corbyn spoke, half of his attention awaited the outcome of Nic's risky offer of greeting formality.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Hexaflexagon
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Hexaflexagon

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M A N Y Y E A R S P R I O R

The end of the wooden staff slammed into the side of Corr’s head. A glob of blood fell limply splattering against stone.

“Faster.”

Vision slowly cleared as he reaffirmed his grip upon his staff. Jerome Rhinebeck stood across from him clutching the staff in his hand. He stood much like Corr shirtless, dark skin bare to the elements despite the winter chill that surrounded them. Despite his advanced age, he had the musculature of a man half his age. Long beard of black peppered with splashes of grey. The centuries old Weissbern Monastery silhouetted behind him by the first early rays of morning sun having just now broke the horizon. His own staff rested easily in a defense grip years of practice and toil making the motions effortless.

With a yell, the fifteen year old boy crossed the gap between them lunging forward with the staff. This started a small rapport of wood knocking against wood. Each blow being thrown out being easily deflected, the older man never loosing eye contact with his pupil. Corr overextended and his staff was easily pushed and anchored to the ground. As he attempted to pull it free from underneath his opponents staff, a foot easily rocketed into his solar plexus sendong him tumbling back.

Jerome tossed the staff back to him.

“Why do we fight?”

“We are the sword. Like the spirits we are double-edged refined both in mind and body.” Corr answered back reciting Scripture with ease.

This time his opponent rushed forward, the boy was barely able to pull his staff upward bracing against an overhand blow that made his arms quiver. As concentrated as he was at keeping the staff at bay he did not notice as a heavy leg sweeped out and knocked his legs out from underneath him. The air was forced out of his lungs in a small gale as he reflexively curled up against the pain. As no other blow came he pushed himself to feet seeing Jerome once again across the way from him.

“Why do we fight?”

“Cause beating up kids half your age makes you feel young again?” Cor answered as he circled more cautiously this time. He pushed outward with a feint, calling the bluff Jerome did not twitch as he circled counter to him. As he reached one hundred and eighty degrees on the circle, Cor swapped his footing and struck out. A similar exchange from earlier occurred as Jerome blocked blow after blow before slamming the staff into Corr’s right side buckling him before jabbing an end with just enough force to the top of the skull to send him stumbling backward flat on his ass.

“Why do we fight!”

Corr gripped at the palms of his hands hard. The veins in his arms bulging with tension. He looked from his staff still on the ground and back towards Jerome. He wiped the sweat from his forehead smearing blood across his face. And with a yell he charged at Jerome going low. The staff lashed out snapping like a whip across his left shoulder and back but he pushed. There was the sickening thud of impact as Corr met his waist and wrapped his hands around him. He pushed forward with enough force to send both of them crashing to the ground. Corr landing on top one on the chest, fist raised.

“To protect people!” He answered and slammed the fist downward where it met flat earth. Jerome’s head easily snapping out of the way. A smile broke through the heavy beard as he clapped his hands around Corr's head pulling it downward as he brought his own upward smashing hard skull against the bridge of the young man's nose sensing him reeling backwards in a splash of blood.

Getting up from his prone position he tossed his own staff away and raised his fists. The smile still on his face.

“Good. Again.”

S O L D I E R E N C A M P M E N T - Z A L E R A T U N D R A



As soon as they entered the mess tent Corr vanished. Partly this was because if he spent anymore amount of time next to Carmen, the Giant would probably have its own version of a meltdown, and also because he had to prepare the food. The camp as small as it was did not have a dedicated mess staff and it was expected that they could take care of themselves. And any excuse to get away was a good one.

Cooking was a strange thing. It was something that while he wouldn't be winning any awards for his fine cuisine it was something he could do. A skill honed through years toiling in the Monastery's kitchen, where the only punishment of failure was that your own dinner tasted like burnt crap. It helped him clear his head if whatever was happening. A task which he could throw everything he had against it and forget about everything else for a few blessed moments.

Luckily for the ragtag bunch of misfits across the way whose conversation was dulled to a lowed mumble, Corr had already been prepping for the meal earlier. Though of course with the increase of bodies some minor adjustments needed to be made. As he chopped and cooked he tried his best to ignore the grumbling of the Giant. He tried his best to ignore the fact that he was going to have to look after a kid that couldn't even handle long distance travel. He tried his best to ignore the fact that he would have to look after a team where half of them couldn't even seem to Control their Aeons and not have them perform minor outburst. He did not think, he only cooked.

Eventually he moved out from the opposite wall of the tent holding a platter easily afloat balanced across one gargantuan hand and a jug of simple water in the other. His ears picking up what introductions as he could as he slid over with surprising amount of silence given his stature. His gait slow and controlled careful so that he could hear the bits and pieces of conversation that flared up around him. Taking note of names and general bearings even though the briefing had told him as watch.

Yet you see Corr was an observant fellow, an observance only further increased by the Giant's embrace upon his senses. And he could feel something building, something akin to a time bomb about to explode in a glass factory. Something whose origin’s epicenter was at the direct middle point between Nic and Carmen. Corr was partly intrigued and mostly terrified. So he moved slowly in such a path so that his face came within both of their respective lines of vision for a fleeting moment.

The eyes first flickered to Nic and they were kind and they were beseeching a simple plea. Careful. You crazy bastard. Next they flickered towards Carmen much sterner this time but knowing it probably wasn't going to do much. Play nice. And after the brief half a second it took for him to pass and place the water down he pulled away. Content to let whatever was about to transgress to transgress, happy now that at least if somebody died he at least tried.

Moving as far away from the prospective blast radius as he could he placed the platter on the table. It was venison nothing that would make any heads roll, but surprisingly suitable to the pallette given the lack of material to work with. He made a motion gesturing for the others to dig in. With a sigh he sat down upon an unclaimed chair creaking underneath the newfound weight atop of it. He rubbed at the exhaustion in his eyes as he spoke to no one in particular.

“Corr. Mission is mysterious probably better that way. No time for second guesses. I was instructed to make sure you folks don't die. Cool? Cool.”

And then he closed his eyes trying his best to ignore the constant thrumming coming from somewhere in the back of his head.


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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Noxious
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Barefeet through snow recalled something of a ballerina’s attempt at allégro, a skipping light frolic that had the demented pixie placing her footfalls in the trace of stiletto as they moved towards the tent. She had become aware that the woman she followed carried a certain “ferocity” in display, but this was not a judgment from Amentia or one crawling through her reality from Xcavairn. Not at all, and she now found herself puzzled as to why the other’s thoughts bled a deep crimson towards the woman, a tone of warning, a shade of blood freshly spilled-- something sinister. Were they not all a little sinister? Avatars of corrupted divinity walking among men, yet trapped in fleshy shells that barely hid the multitudes of their deceptions. It was likely that her peers subconsciously buried themselves in their own architecturally nuanced pyramids of deceit so that they were blinded to their truth. Shame really.

When it came to the one she followed she was transfixed by a tone other than red, one that did little to persuade her path to one of caution, but rather ached for her to draw closer. A mental flick from within came in time to dissuade her from reaching those phantasm like digits out to touch the tempting fragility of hues that assuredly had spawned in a fairy-tale with the purity of untouched snow. She mused to herself instead on whether the huntress would be warm or chill and if the sensation would be compelling enough for her to feel or perhaps like a wraith; her touch would pass through and leave an ache resting there instead. As they entered the tent she was sure to pause and let the distance yawn between them, ever worried about impressions and social niceties. There would be time to tempt fate and pet the arctic hued lioness, but the conspicuous notion of hunger involved assured her the present was not it.

And it was with that thought that she slipped ever so awkwardly into the chair on the other side of the well groomed commander from Sammael. One foot slid beneath her and the other dangled idly, tickling across the floor as it ticked back and forth with the beat of a pendulum. Her back arched and both elbows rested themselves on the table so that she cradled her cheeks in her palms as she glanced about at the occupants. The pleasure that curled on those soft petal lips was genuine.

What fun this was going to be.

The Commander beside her began introductions and she tilted her head to take in the well maintained and polished man. Even his facial hair seemed expertly trimmed. Corbyn. They would be friends she decided, maybe then he would tell her why his mind lingered somewhere else. And then it was the puker's turn. Pale eyes drifted towards him and her head pivoted in kind as he made his introduction. Nervous little thing, wasn’t he? His pyramid would definitely come crashing down. She hadn’t finished the thought when a piece of it fractured-- right there at dinner!-- and his powers expelled themselves into the table causing it to bloom about her resting elbows. And he hadn't even done it on purpose. Her reaction was immediate as a childlike giggle slipped melodiously from her beaming lips and her petite hands gave a short round of clapping displaying fully her pleasure over the brief purge of his welling gifts. She was quick to reign in this little outburst before the frosty predator began to speak. Carmen. She’d been hoping on something more exotic, but she supposed Carmen would do. In another life she could be a politician, but this life seemed to favor her.

She barely listened to the rest of what Carmen said, more enthralled with the giving of names, so when London spoke she offered the girl a nod, already acquainted, though briefly, and then raised a brow in anticipation for the next. Maybe someone’s power would be to put a plate of food in front of them. Wouldn’t that be convenient? No such luck though, food remained illusory and the next to speak was another of the Commanders. Eldric, no, he said he preferred Nic. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at this one though her facial expression didn’t betray any lack of the previous joy. Some were just harder to place than others. There was something that pecked at her consciousness, something she should know. When he stood her reverie snapped and she looked at Samm who was introducing himself to Corbyn. The coffee had done him wonders in swaying favor his direction, and if he kept it up he’d likely be the most popular SOLDIER in camp.

Well, would have been the most popular if Corr had not stepped in with food. I guess someone's ability was to bring food. The feeling in the room had recently swayed towards an agitated apprehension for reasons Amentia had yet to pinpoint, or simply ignored, and then he was placing the food down and the mood seemed a little less stressed. His introduction was simple, blunt. Oh, but it was the most complicated who usually spoke the most plainly. Amentia’s already crooked grin beamed towards the giant and offered a subtle nod of thanks towards the food, one of which he likely missed as his eyes closed.

When there seemed to be a lull due to the arrival of food the little perched fairy of old, demented and coy, deigned it appropriate to fill the void. Her palms dropped to lay flat upon the table, which seemed to effect some stabilization upon her fluttering edges as the shadows muted and coalesced, wisps pooling about between her separated fingers. When she spoke there was a sincerity present that she was starting find would be a rarity amongst this group. “It’s a pleasure to be around such interesting individuals.” The curling shadows toyed about her fingertips in minute flickering spasms, as she turned to look towards Corbyn and down that side of the table, “I’m pleased we’re all on the same team.” Specter glances now caressed across the others, focusing and not focusing, a juxtaposition of observance and contemplation. Still the pools between her fingers danced, tiny little amusements of void and decay caressing across the newly birthed sections of table and gnawing at them in such minor atrophy that it was doubtful noticed.

“My name is Amentia, and as skillsets go, I’m good with people.” She seemed complete in her introduction and her foggy gaze fell to her fingertips. Her head canted to the side and that seemingly perpetual simper was replaced by something more Machiavellian-- something sardonic flickering there as the collection of swarmed light manipulations fractured noiselessly and capered outward in the form of negligible little spiders. Funny how the creeping arachnids portrayed such a common fear. So small, so insignificant, but there was something about the way they could inch themselves into orifices that made people feel unprotected like little else could. She liked arachnids. In a wink’s time the meager shared hallucination had dissipated and her pleased smirk had returned as if nothing had come to pass. She pulled two of the bo-shuriken from their cradle around her thigh and stabbed a piece of venison. She dangled the piece from the deadly chopstick, taking a bite and chewing at it as her elbows came to rest once again on the table. The brief exorcism of the illumination devouring halo began to fade as the twitching nuance returned while she awaited the next introduction.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Hellis
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Hellis Cᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟɪsᴛɪᴄ Yᴇᴛ Cʟᴀssʏ

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.


He noted the smaller girl sway away from him in a way that belied weariness, but with a face that seemed almost like she had smelt something foul on him. Kain wondered idly what all that was about, had she some sort of ability that saw him differently? He would have to ask later, if he found the time.

The smell of food always brought the big man a semblance of peace. Maybe it was becouse his Aeon, eternally angry and all around vocal, went quiet during dinner. The fire was still ever present and but the angry voice seemed to have lost interest for now. Kain breathed out slow, relaxing as he sat down with the others. He sat quietly, and watched. His temperament and his penchant for conflict forced him to remain static and silent. He would watch them, observe what his group of newfound comrades were about. As a fighter, he evaluated the most obvious physical assets they had. Corr was built like a brick house and kain was pretty sure the man could take one hell of a beating should it come down to that. Judging from the way he carried himself, the kind cadence and steady breath, he was to be their shield. Kain had met men like him before, people who had put themselves in the way of bulelts and knives. The good kind of cops for one, had always been his type. He had killed more then a few of them. That thought got the Aeon riled up inside him.

“SINNNERRRRRR” Its voice hissed and crackled like a fire inside his mind. “We… Must ATONE! BURN IT CLEANNNNN!” He started to rise as if to to leave the table early, as the voice was insistent, the aeon clearly angry whit its host and was making keeping calm a rapidly losing battle. Thats when Cameron spoke. IT brought Kain back to reality, and he focused on the man he had seen puked earlier. He was an odd sort, he felt missplaced, like he didn’t belong here at all to Kain. He had none the others quiet confidence or ego. None of the belief in himself. Kain found he pitied him in a way, and disturbingly enough, saw a lot of his old friends in that kind of behavior. Back when they were just kids playing at being gangsters.

Those had been simpler days in many ways. But they hadn’t exactly been good days either. He was about Bruce little lightshow had caught some peoples notice, but not that of Kain, he had been to busy calming his own Aeon from trying to light them both of fire as it was. He remained silent even as Carmen began to speak again, he really didn’t like that woman and the voice inside him agreed wholeheartedly.

“FALSSSSSEEEHOOOOD. MAKE A PYRE, WOOD AND ROCKS AND LYRE. A PYRE FOR THE WITCH.” It hissed, the fire raging inside, wanting so badly to break out and engulf the entire room in cleansing heat.

“That’s new. Are we giving them nicknames now?” Kain mumbled under his breath, gulping another massive helping of food. The internal oven that was his body was consuming calories at alarming an alarming rate these days. The Aeon didn’t answer. It just kept screaming in his head about building a very old fashioned execution platform.In an attempt to ignore both Carmen and his own internal tormentor he focused on Corbyn. He seemed like an ok sort he decided. Not instantly reliable as Corr, he carried himself too much like a leader for Kain to trust him. Authority and Kain did not get along very well after all. Corbyn had apparently introduced himself before Cameron, but Kain had been to distracted by food to take it in then. But Carmen kept talking, seemingly intent on bringing them all into her web. He saw those cogs work behind her ears, putting people in their designated slots for her to better use them later. She was so much like Merc, he could have reached over and extinguished her there and then. His fingers twitched at the thought and he shook it off. Before he couldn't stop himself he spoke.

“No. No you don’t. People like you don’t care." With a small moment of silence for panctuation, he added: "Commander." Kains voice was low. “It doesn’t matter now. If they are dead, they are dead. We are not outfitted to help any survivors. What we can do is to smash whatever is in our way, and see what brought them to close down..”

As he listened to everyone introduce themselves. Corrs comment made him nod. “For those of you that do second guess. I don’t know if you read my files yet. But I do not hesitate.” In fact, that was the problem with Kain. He had not hesitated to put a sparring partners in the infirmary. “It is not in my nature. My name is Kain Bradwell.” He lifted his trench knives and let one of them sink into the table. “My Aeon is Balil.” He opened his eyes, having had them closed this entire time. Those amber browns belied the first emotion to break through his carefully maintained . They were positively feral. “We kill things.” As he said it, fires briefly danced across his skin like small wisps of almost white heat.

In Kains head, Balil was Laughing. “YESSSS KAIN. YES. WE. DO” That, was a bad sign.

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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Rockette
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Rockette 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.
The perception of a predator was all consuming; eerily compounded and compacted within sensory, vibrating oculi that shimmered and pinged, pupils that collided against seas of steelish azure that flexed, then hardened, immediately honing in on the target with all intentions befitting manic esurience. Those of a carnivorous candor, of various intricacies - emotional, psychological, physical - oft bred a series of expressions and performances of persecution. Carmen was of such exhibition, with parted corals, petals that, much like flora, concealed the thorns beneath that wept poison by tongue and words and literal horrors of blackened taint. Her searching qualms stilled, quieted and she carefully angled her posture to reflect the process of words that filtered across a gyrating mind of golden fangs and sapphires exteriors of adamant defenses, then, she inhaled.

She recognized the scent from those she had filtered and processed earlier, but concentrating carefully upon his unique palette bid feathering swells of blackened malice, charred and deadened with a cloak of savagery and deception like tar that sluiced across the breadth of her orifice with the sluggishness of a festering disease. Beneath, however, was an all too known frailty that all mortals possessed, but Carmen recognized the embellishments of an alpha complexity, the power laden within soul and bone calling and bidding that tasted of peculiar greens, like tainted beds where bodies were lain to rest. She decides, then, that this smell - this man - is a near competitor for the champion taste, not quite a favourite, she muses, but close enough.

She likes him already.

Carmen's simper was a device of manipulative wonder bathed in seduction, the sort that foretold ill promises and destiny - not fate - that bespoke the intention to covet and reap all for her own pleasure and benefits. The obligated introductions droned outward, bleeding into the monotonous backdrop of her consensus, the intensity and severity of a seemingly harmless custom wreathing those whom were knowledgeable of her, at the very least, in barbed wired vices of quarreling worry and objections to someone offering their hand to her. Carmen raked and prowled her gaze from his proffered attempt, upward along an extended limb and finally towards his countenance and eyes where mischief banked and glimmered and beckoned to stalwart blues of cemented ice.

"Nicholaus," she rolled his name through her mouth, letting it slide over the course of her tongue and flickering across her teeth that ached profoundly. She likes the taste of it, she decides, and carefully plucks the ebon cloth from her fingers, shedding her gloves in favour of flesh on flesh contact, her digits poised carefully - despite their flinching presentiment - and laces her palm onto his. Grip firm, formal, and it's all she can do to contain the sudden compulsion to jerk him forward and bank her teeth somewhere and conform her figure to his own, flush and wed and writhing. Within, her soul sparks with a tremendous wealth of subjugation, the sort that begets domination and dictating power that surrenders the male before her beneath her stiletto boot. Carmen's grip tightens just so, a reflection of her trembling innards before she dispels the contact, smile implanted and eyes never leaving the cape of his own.

"A pleasure," she rejoins with genuine aplomb, the sort of refinement that defects to her accented infliction, the Baanga uplift of her origins coating her voice in tinkling grace. "Can't say I share the same knowledge of rumour, though. But, I believe it'll be nice to have you around more so." Carmen carefully pours into her gloves with a thrust, flexing her gestures outward, each digit curling inward as if mimicking the unique conformity of her weaponry - curiously absent from her current presentation. She angles her head carefully on the ending catches of hospitality as everyone spells and shares their particular sets of performance and skill, her lips curled at that, it's hard to detail and inform those of her own reaping and power, and she lacks the proper initiative to even care about the rationing of capabilities.

Besides, there's food. And she's even more ravenous than before.

Carmen eagerly braces her palm to the table, the wood protesting only a moment as she reaches for her share, the bestial and barbaric nature of her consumption eerily reminiscent of a rapacious creature as her felidae teeth tear through the venison and she chews with a soft sigh that capers into a grouse of fulfillment.

However, there's always that one universal law, never thwart the predator from her prey, and within the midst of chewing, a baritone of grating distaste and inflection immediately plowed through her enjoyment. Carmen's teeth perched on the remains of venison, her eyes narrowing within displeasure at his basis. She did not care to confront or dispel his assumptions, but the poise of voice and his timbre sired a rising within her breast, the creature prowling betwixt her natures immediately roaring in defiance. She liked the former man, the one who dared to touch her, but this man, the one that reeked of white hot heat and conflagrations of simmering retribution, she thinks she dislikes him more than the old goat that oft challenges her command.

"You're right," Carmen bites out, teeth digging into the remains of her meal. "I don't care." She swallows, tongue swiveling to catch the remaining touches of meat from her fingers, swiping yonder her lips before retreating into her orifice with a hiss. "They're of no use to me, but -" She pauses, leans forward, smile splitting and crinkling. "Least you're knowledgeable of your place beneath me, SOLDIER. That's the only importance here." Referring to his bitterly snaked out calling of her title, she muses and inhales, preparing for another bit of venison until a sudden siren wails, the sharp calls fanning outward and carried on the tundra winds. Carmen's entire body goes rigid as Keepers pour into the tent, immediately disturbing any further introductions waiting as the siren continues to cry until it dies off with the last of winds carrying it outward to any who might've gone unaware of the sudden disturbance.

"We've received a intercepted transmission," one the Keepers begins, the others fanning outward, stationing within a line that surrounds the entire table of SOLDIERS, like corralling animals within. "Archadia has ordered a sudden increase within their border security. Our allotted window of infiltration has been shortened drastically. You must leave tonight, otherwise there will be a full out war on the borders and the chance that we lose the Weapon too high to risk such an affront."

The table was cleared, food and beverages removed without ceremony - much to Carmen's sudden snarl - and a collection of documents were sprawled, official gatherings of their profiles and a projection of a map suddenly illuminating to life, highlighting everything within azure glows and pale glimmers. The illuminated trajectory summoned attention as those of the target stratagem and procedure theory began a sudden and hasty debriefing.

"The Shyps will hover near the shore, where you'll be required to drop down and swim the rest of the way up, to avoid security seeing the Shyps, we'll use the blanket of the tundra winds and snow to remain hidden, but we can only get so close."

One of the Keepers thumbed to their files, the sudden puncture of sound causing Carmen to quiver as certain profiles were spread aloft, being separated into two gatherings.

"We've deliberated over your files and have determined that the best course of action would be a troupe designed purposely for distraction, and one for infiltration. The distraction group will draw attention towards them and away from those that will sneak in through a gap in the force, the sudden action will hopefully disturb the tightening of security so you're able to gather into Faelan without trouble. Once the infiltration group has secured a certain point within Archadia, a signal will be provided by the critical explosion of a flash bomb so the distraction team can pull away."

"The point is to avoid unnecessary..." A pause, a gaze scouring over every individual, landing and falling on particular individuals within question, those that occupied profiles with particular warnings and sported caution to their induction. "Death."

"The point is to meet somewhere outside Faelan and enter through Ground Zero to find the Weapon and deliver remains to Nibelheim. Further instruction will be given once the recovery has been completed. Secure a route within Archadia, and a contingent will follow through once the Grounds have been secured."

The profiles were immediately slid open, and names were called forth with each sheaf and slide of the documents, where sequences of numbers began to filter out with their given appellations and titles.

"The infiltration group will be led by Corbyn Vesper and the distraction team will be led by Carmen Auset." Another siren pealed through the airs, immediately siring tension through the SOLDIERS with lingering grasps of excitement tinged with airs of sudden hunger and power.

"Another intercepted transmission!" A youth called forth, peering into the tent with eyes wide, mouth a pale line slashed across his features. "A selected infantry is being deployed to the borders as we speak, if we're going to make it, they need to leave now!"

Carmen's eyes reeled, glimmering within harsh azure that shimmered outward in near purity, the white borders of her oculi illuminating the power lain within herself, where the King bayed wildly in excitement within for the champion call of the sirens that finally died off, lost to the sudden mistral of snow and ice. The maps, documents, and scattering of official gatherings were immediately cleared, the Keepers passing outward until the one who had produced the most information and briefing had spoke, gesturing outward and summoning haste into their departure.

"We board now, SOLDIERS. We've no time to waste."



The Shyp designed for their deployment was located farther from the encampment, a separate military grade transport from the one that had delivered the contingent of SOLDIERS previously. This one had been lying within wait, ultimately prepared to be utilized by the Govern forces for this specific retrieval. Carmen approached the awaiting behemoth of machinery with her proper weaponry within place, the uniformed claws of her footwear and gauntlets polished with near manic impression, glimmering within tundra snow and illuminated by the lights surrounding the Shyp being prepped for travel. The amount of rays nearly eclipsed and banished the night, harsh ambers in feathering yellows. Such would be required, as the risk of flying within the tundra would ultimately prove deadly without their assistance aglow. When the entrance plopped down, exposing the thick innards of the yawning Shyp, spacious and rigged with weaponry; armed to the teeth and ultimately prepared for any allotted scenario and potential outcome of their sanctioned invasion, Carmen's laughter barked forth, tempting and frantic.

She refused to falter, her clawed palms braced to her hips, feet twisting within the snow, as she tossed her gaze yonder her festooned shoulder, the warped metal of her armour providing a temporary barrier as she awaited the rest of the SOLDIERS to follow, weapons at the ready, their hearts eager within the right place. Or so, she hoped for, as the provided individuals to her selected troupe were not the ones she desired most, though her favourite was among them - what a treat that was - but the whelp and the man who created whorls of rage and defiance was with her, and the mere thought of him under her command was both a twisted reap of pleasure, and a demented conclusion of circumstance.

No matter, she thought swiftly and immediately ascended onto the Shyp, her bladed weaponry creating a musical ping across the ramp. Her writhing hunger and need was currently abated, she could afford them moments of luxury, no matter how fleeting it would be.



A B O A R D. . .T H E. . .S H Y P / / T H E. . . C A N A L.
As previously projected, which appeared so sudden and incredibly far away for peculiar reasons, the Shyp departed on swift execution with little to no ceremony after all the SOLIDERS had boarded, rising within the tundra sky, vanishing beyond the winds and hidden by the sudden whorl of disturbed natures. There was a brief shudder as the massive transport had reached the proper altitude and made a obtuse bank and turn, heading directly for the promised border and sanction of conflict. The spires of the Archadian mountains beckoning almost, looming behind the eternal winters they heralded themselves under daily and with stalwart defense like stone warped sentinels. The initial juncture of the Shyp's delivery was to skirt along the edges of Archadia, keeping to the Galbadia skies to avoid alarm and suspect, a typical route some would speculate if given reason or a chance glimpse of the Shyp transporting through the darkened skies.

The two continents hugged one another across the Maridum and Quan Ma canal, it created certain strains prior to the current mission, thus the need for subterfuge and hidden entry, much to the Commander's itching qualms as the Shyp hummed and whorled with the massive machinery required to maintain head way across the waters. The gates supplied were required for successful transport, recharging the peculiar energy units designed under Palamecia's prowess and execution.

Carmen shifted, her clawed footwear tapping repeatedly against the Shyp interior, the floor pinging constantly with her agitated motions every time the Shyp excelled through one of the gates, the innards briefly illuminating by the recharging canals and spires of the collected units under Galbadia sanction. Nearly two hours had passed by with the depart from the Zalera tundra and the Esper spires lead their way further North, the point of touch down was coming close, initiated and signaled by the sudden descent.

Only, there was something terribly peculiar about the rate of descent. Something wrong.

Carmen felt it first when her bladed footwear fell down one last time, scraping the metal flooring as the Shyp pitched forward, immediately pointing southward towards the waters she knew loomed beneath them in slight waves by the pull of the Viera moon. The incline was entirely too severe by the tightening of her straps, held within place with restraints cutting sharply and pulling against her armour in a vice. She hissed, immediately slicing through the ebon confinements to free herself.

"Something is -"

It was a terrible scream and caper of sheering metals that silenced her, the Shyp suddenly aflame in scarlet lights and blaring tones, the critical descent more like a horrendous fall, the behemoth felled from her grace of the skies. A voice, laced with terror and sudden alarm, alerted them to the sudden shift with the feed buzzing inward and out of frequency.

"A malfunction - we don't know. Something went wrong - we're going down! Brace-!"

The canal was not repaired for such an invasion, the waters roaring outward, spanning the breadth of the Shyp as it impaled the waters by the sudden crash. The sudden encounter tore through the machine, the massive transports easily and crashing heavily into the bottom and fracturing the hull with alarming ease. Water immediately poured into the facility, the Shyp tilted on a dangerous axis with few SOLDIERS still within their given harnesses, and those not, struggling to grasp purchase on jutting objects to keep their selves a foot and not to plummet within the frigid waters pouring inward through the shattered exterior.

Carmen's bladed gauntlet struck out, grasping the nearest leg of one of the seats, clawing and critically cinched tight with her visage displaying her psychical strain and struggle. The Shyp was nearly vertical upon the crash until the creak of metals groaned, echoing through the hull and amplified by the canal's torrent as it fell back, pulled by weight and gravity, and the remains fell into the canal with a roar of metal wedded to frigid temperatures of the waters awaiting them. The facility immediately began to flood, evening out and Carmen sputtered, rising from the depths with a snarl reaped across her features, the water already reaching to her knees.

The Shyp had crashed, the canal prepared to swallow them entirely if they didn't vacate soon, her gaze immediately honed in on the SOLDIERS, her claws slicing through their restraints immediately, freeing them from their confinements with a harsh swipe.

"Come on, before the entire thing floods, we need to swim to the shores!" Carmen ordered, wading through the waters, searching for the immediate crack within the Shyp, it was their only point of surviving. Once there they could collect themselves, find out what occurred, and hopefully find way to contact their Keepers - she was confident the pilots were dead, but maybe a few of the provided infantry remained - and continue with their current mission. It was her immediate response, the animal within her baying, instinct fostered hard and immediate to her heart and soul. They needed to proceed with the provided direction, less they falter and fail, and Carmen Auset was not too keen to return to her cage just yet; they couldn't afford to pull away just yet, despite the sudden disturbance.

So she inhaled, her breath sharp and splintering over her bones, her teeth slicing into her coral pout before she suddenly dove, the canal waters swallowing her figure whole.

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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by DJAtomika
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Natalya Kortensky

Camp | Zalera Tundra


As the rest of the SOLDIERs filtered into the mess tent, Natalya took a seat next to them. Her guns, now out of their cases, were stowed safely in their housings on her combat armour. Her gloved hands were clasped round a dented, slightly worn metal mug with a carabiner hooked into the handle. Within steamed a nice piping hot serving of chicken soup from the camp's mess. Although unorthodox, soup in a cup was her idea of warm comfort food. And as the last of the group sat and began their introductions, she waited for a lull in the conversation before getting her introduction in.

"Doctor Natalya Kortensky. Archadian native. Second rank SOLDIER. Medical officer and healer. Quite a motley crew we have here, yes?"

As the others got to talking and introducing themselves, Natalya sat back in her seat and drank her soup. The other SOLDIERs...felt strange. She hadn't seen this many of her fellow comrades-in-arms since her training days, and frankly it excited her. This new mission, although strange, was going to be a true test of their abilities, both to work as a team, and their Aeons. The doctor found it rather weird, though, that they were going to be infiltrating the city she'd called a home away from home for years. Running her clinic in Nibelheim, she'd frequently gone to Archadia to pick up supplies that they needed to run things. She knew the city fairly well, but to think that they were holding a weapon in there, capable of untold destruction... It set her mind awhirl.

Then presumably their leader entered the mess tent, and a briefing commenced. They were to be split into two teams, as detailed in the dossier. She was to be part of the Infiltration team, since the Distraction team already had a medic. Already she knew her decision was going to be bad, but if the teams needed to be balanced, then by jove they would be. Natalya listened to the briefing, noting with a grim nod that their timeline had moved. With a sense of finality and purpose, the group stood, bit by bit, and filtered out of the tent. Strangely, she was the last to leave. Her gaze lingered on the horizon, in the direction that Archadia lay. This would be the last time she'd treat the city as a welcome place.

And it would be the first time she'd consider it a warzone.


The Canal | Shypwreck


Cold water greeted Natalya as she, or rather her Aeon, roused her from her unconsciousness. Her body ached, joints creaking and muscles sore from the crash. The Archadian doctor had used the opportunity of the flight to catch a short nap, but she'd been jolted awake by the attack. It'd left her disoriented, and when the Shyp hit the water, she'd banged her head against a wall and been knocked out. But now that she was awake, she knew that if she didn't move, she'd drown.

Her gauntlets found the straps of her harness that held her tightly against her seat and ripped them apart with ease, her strength and Alexander's melding together as she tore free from her bindings. As Carmen, their defacto leader, set to work tearing the others free, she began to help. With Carmen on one side, Natalya worked on the other, her armoured fists ripping and tearing apart the straps and harnesses that held the SOLDIERs to their chairs. Then, as Carmen found the crack in the Shyp and dove underneath the water's surface to escape, she knew what she had to do.

Natalya grabbed the nearest SOLDIER, whoever it was, and shoved them roughly towards where Carmen had dove under the roiling waves. Body after body she tore from their destroyed restraints and hurried towards their exit. With each SOLDIER that she got up and moving, their chances of surviving improved by just that little bit. And this mission needed every ounce of skill that they had. It didn't matter to her that the icy water was up to her waist, all that mattered to her was the success of the mission. Without thinking, she slapped her helmet on and engaged the seal. The lights within ignited her face in stark white as she waved those already up and moving towards their exit.

"Go, comrades! Swim for it! I will be right behind!"
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by icmasticc
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I S L E O F I V A L I C E / / M A N Y Y E A R S P R I O R
They had been there the entire time.

Varrina slowly crouched, aquatic irises maintaining contact with temperamental umber and a curious countenance besmirched by a crooked grin. A petite arm reached low and scooped up two lengthy items wrapped in simple cloth and loosely tied with string. Her lips stretched wider, the excitement building and throbbing just under the surface of her chest, rows of teeth beginning to surface through the widening crack. As smoothly as she lowered herself, the young lady knight rose back to full posture and tossed the longer of the wrapped items over to her waiting opponent, eliciting a brow raise and a visage of slight confusion. Corbyn took a moment to bore this look into the confident manner of his associate while nimble fingers weaved through the string and pulled both it and the fabric away. An ornate spear revealed itself under the moonlight as the boy dug the butt of the shaft into the ground to assess the full height of his familiar weapon. He sucked his teeth. "How did you know?" He asked, gaze shifting from the decorative, yet deadly, blades of the spear back to his female companion.

Varrina crudely tore her fabric away to reveal a long and heavy looking claymore. The silver blade glinted under the moon, rising far above the girl's head as she held the black bandaged wrap hilt to her chest briefly. A small recess traveled the length of the blade in the center though it stopped short of both the tip and the base. The guard was a simple apparatus, merely extending horizontally to the left and right before coning down into the hilt. The lady knight rotated the large weapon in her right hand so as to hold it in an underhanded style, her fingers curling around guard and hilt alike near where the base of the blade disappeared into the guard. "I've seen some of your late night practice sessions," She replied softly.

"Guess I wasn't as hidden as I thought," Corbyn chuckled slightly, "A sword is a fine weapon, but there's something about a lance that's just... More exciting? I have to tell you though, I've always hated that."

"Hated what?"

"How you hold that claymore. Is there even a point?"

"That's right, you've never trained with me. It's just my own style. Don't let it distract you. I don't want to hear any excuses when this is over," Varrina adjusted her footing and slightly angled her body to the side, her left hand resting lightly on the hilt of her large weapon.

"I figured this was going to be barehanded since we're off duty at the moment. Where the hell'd you even get these from?"

"You're not the first person I've done this with."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"Not the question you vocally asked, sure."

"More importantly, why are we even using real weapons to begin with if we're just sparring?"

"I told you, I need to be certain of something. Besides, if you think this is your average sparring match, this is going to be easier than I thought."

"What are you--"

She wasted no time. Launching from her rear foot, Varrina exploded forward and closed the gap between the twosome in seconds. Corbyn barely had time to gasp as muscle memory took over and shuffled his feet quickly to the side, throwing his body towards the ground and into a side roll. As he came out of the roll and snapped his gaze back to his feminine opponent, widened eyes caught a glimpse of the ending of a perfectly executed horizontal swipe, the massive claymore now clutched in her left hand and her form rigid and precise. Varrina reclaimed her original stance and turned to face the young, bewildered knight with the kind of smile a mother gives her children. The boy quickly rose and gripped the spear in both hands, the weapon now guarding the front of his body - then he felt it. A slight breeze nipped and gnawed at freshly exposed skin under a newly opened tear in the plain shirt he wore. Their eyes met once more, but the curious blue now glinted within a ray of moonlight in an almost sinister fashion. "It's exactly as I said," Varrina coldly intoned, "This isn't going to be your average sparring match."

The harsh clang of clashing metal rang out and echoed into the night sky as Varrina bent knees and brought up the broadside of her blade, with both hands, quickly to meet a stabbing thrust. Corbyn sneered behind the shaft of his outstretched spear, his body turned completely to one side and a tight over and under hand grip on his weapon. Any confusion or surprise had been wiped away to be replaced by an almost manic expression of satisfaction. "If that's how we're going to do this," Arms ferociously pulled back, the spear retreating with controlled haste while the body spun a quick 360 to bring the blades atop the shaft back around towards unguarded legs, "then let's fucking do this!" He exclaimed as his offense was once again met with the broadside of the claymore. The two entered into a state of equivalent exchanges as swipes and slashes were met with blocks and deflections on both sides. Corbyn danced and pirouetted around the grassy, forested battlefield while Varrina only seemed to move in defensive maneuvers, opting to use the efficiency of shorter steps to aid in her masterful offensive technique. A full minute went by as the clashes raged on before the duo stopped a short distance apart - the same distance they had started with.

"You're a lot quicker with that thing than I thought you'd be," Corbyn complimented, his chest heaving in and out ever so slightly.

"Unfortunately, I'm not one for pointless reciprocity," Varrina once again regained her original stance.

"I didn't ask anyway. I was just sayin', mostly"

"Well we can save that kind of talk for later. You haven't beaten me yet." Varrina smiled once more as she launched herself forward to meet a now equally fast Corbyn in another clash.


S O L D I E R E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A T U N D R A

The wail of the siren created an odd dichotomy for Corbyn. On the one hand, his body jolted and his head snapped to the nearest loudspeaker as if to confirm the noise and comprehend its meaning fully, validating the subtly rising feelings of worry and dread bubbling within. On the other hand, his heart smiled with a steadily rising frequency of beats, a more feral, primal even, kind of fragmented excitement slowly clustering and joining together in stark opposition to the surface level trepidation and caution. His eyes closed as he let the pitch of the warning banshee penetrate his being and stir his focus. Fleeting thoughts of early days at the Fort wove together in the space of his mentality, creating a tapestry of memories and feelings brought on from the training and speeches of more experienced officers from that time. Countless training simulations and scenarios lost all their heft as the sound of the screaming alarm cemented this first SOLDIER deployment as all too real. This is what the commander had both been weary of and hoping for. This is when everything would truly begin.

"That sound... Is truly awful," Asteria whined. Corbyn shifted in his seat, erecting his back and interlacing his fingers on the table. An influx of personnel had stormed the tent and removed the food and drink to be replaced by dossiers and documents. Though every member of the unit had a responsibility to read files prior to leaving for deployment, this kind of impromptu debriefing was standard even when the alarm remained silent. The fact that it had gone off meant that the mission had just become that much more interesting. The commander maintained a blank expression as a random officer began the meeting.

"Archadia has ordered a sudden increase within their border security. Our allotted window of infiltration has been shortened drastically. You must leave tonight, otherwise there will be a full out war on the borders and the chance that we lose the Weapon too high to risk such an affront. The Shyps will hover near the shore, where you'll be required to drop down and swim the rest of the way up. To avoid security seeing the Shyps, we'll use the blanket of the tundra winds and snow to remain hidden, but we can only get so close."

Corbyn's brow furrowed instinctively. A sudden increase in security? He couldn't wrap his head around the order. There shouldn't have been a way for Archadia to have been tipped off on SOLDIER's movements, but that would mean that something else was going on that was drastic enough to cause this kind of paranoid reaction.

"We've deliberated over your files and have determined that the best course of action would be a troupe designed purposely for distraction, and one for infiltration. The distraction group will draw attention towards them and away from those that will sneak in through a gap in the force, the sudden action will hopefully disturb the tightening of security so you're able to gather into Faelan without trouble. Once the infiltration group has secured a certain point within Archadia, a signal will be provided by the critical explosion of a flash bomb so the distraction team can pull away. The point is to avoid unnecessary... Death."

The corners of his lips tugged just slightly as the commander listened to the officer speak. He knew what was coming next.

"The infiltration group will be led by Corbyn Vesper and the distraction team will be led by Carmen Auset."

"Well, shit," Corbyn interjected before waving a hand at the officer to disregard the errant comment and continue. He took a quick look around the table at the others and rubbed his temple. Ranks in SOLDIER were funny kinds of things. Beyond the semantics of title, the organizational hierarchy didn't really mean much. Ranks signified ability and strength more so than authority and seniority - indicative of danger even, in the case of certain individuals. It wasn't that the commander had problems with leading a team--quite the opposite, considering he had done it before--but the man himself figured he was better suited to causing a bit of a ruckus than methodically navigating an area.

"You can't be actually disappointed," Asteria echoed, "You don't even like to fight. This should be perfect for a man like you."

"Tch, a man like me... Look, I'm not disappointed anyway. I was just a bit surprised, is all. Figured I'd be more useful as a distraction. I'll go wherever they want me to."

"So now you're their lapdog, too? Ha! This should be entertaining, at the least."

"Just shut the hell up, you don't have a clue. I already told you to go back into dormancy anyway, I won't be using your power."

"Sure, we'll see how that goes.'

Corbyn sighed audibly just as the screaming banshee came to life for a second round. One of the young analysts caught wind of infantry already heading to the Archadia borders to help with the security increase. It was now or never, it seemed. Clutching the lance on his back as if to make sure it was still in place, the commander stood and intrinsically brushed off his shirt and stretched before he was hit with the most important revelation of that moment.

His stomach rumbled angrily as he realized he hadn't eaten a single piece of the meat that had been brought out.


A B O A R D T H E S H Y P / / T H E C A N A L

Unlike the previous vessel, the transport Shyp taking the team to Archadia was quite a bit roomier within its heavy metallic walls. The overall design of the exterior was more aerodynamic and built to stealth specifications, yet somehow was made to provide almost double the space inside, spread amongst three main compartments. The SOLDIER unit took up refuge in the lower deck where the hydraulic ramp and weapons storage was - though the storage housed standard issue projectiles, not the custom weaponry a SOLDIER might carry. In true uniform fashion, olive hues surrounded those within on all sides save for the presently darkened alarm which stood out amongst the brighter shade it was attached to. Three double rows of seats created a squared off "U" shape on the outer edges of the large space nearest to each of the three walls, but the current roster took up nowhere near the amount of seats available. In Shyps like these, Corbyn always elected to claim a seat on the wall directly across from the hydraulic ramp. He liked to watch the ramp release from its internal locks and slowly drop down, revealing the outside the world. His lance occupied the seat next to him, pointing up at the ceiling and leaning at a diagonal.

"What are you thinking about?" Asteria suddenly echoed. Corbyn, slumping and laid back in his seat with his eyes closed, sighed and laced the fingers resting on his abdomen.

"My goodness, you're talkative today," He replied in his mind, "And what kind of stupid question is that? You can read my damn thoughts."


"I'm trying to practice being more... Down to earth, as you put it?"

"Yeah, that's not what that means. In any case, we've got a decent chunk of time left, I may as well give in. Nothing much, really. I was just reflecting on that night... "

"We have co-existed for far too many nights for me to understand which one you're referring to."

"Right, right. It was years before we were... Well, before we found ourselves in this situation. It was a similar kind of impromptu outing then too and I just... I just remember feeling the same way then, as I do now. That's a little interesting, to me."

"It must have something to do with that female, right? What was her name, again?"

"Heh... It was--" The sudden jerk and pull of gravity and g-force burst open Corbyn's eyes as he felt a sharp downward sensation. It took a few moments to register, but something had wrong - very wrong. Crimson flashes of light accompanied by an even louder, screaming siren threw the commander's senses into a dizzying soup of amalgamated confusion, shock, terror, and even plain old fear. As the nosedive grew steeper, his thoughts all came crashing together at the same, horrifying conclusion; the shyp was going down and it was going down hard.

Corbyn awoke with a snap and immediately felt the aches and stinging of various parts of his now sprawled body. Though the seats on the Shyp all came with restraints, the commander was accustomed to not wearing them since SOLDIER had never had to really leave the Fort properly until now. Of course the first time would immediately bite him in the ass. As his vision cleared, the fuzzy figure of Carmen came into view, the unhinged woman rushing to cut restrained SOLDIERs free and the another woman, Natalya, lending a hand in the endeavor. As the two were almost finished, Corbyn took a few seconds to shift his gaze around, regaining his bearings and feeling around for his lance. Luckily, his prized weapon had fallen not too far and with it now in tow, he turned back to see Carmen diving into the quickly rising waters of a flooding, now overturned Shyp. "Water. It had to be water. Guess I'll have to actually swim," Corbyn muttered to himself as he strapped his weapon to his back once more, took a breath, and followed Carmen's direction hoping she had already found a way out.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Insatiable
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Insatiable 𝚁 𝙴 𝙼 𝙴 𝙳 𝚈

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SOLDIER Encampment // Zalera Tundra

It has long been a habitual stratagem of his to put flattering remarks over his inaugurated interactions, all for the purpose of embodying his swaggering display of gallantry. But Nic chose to be wise and not be full of himself. Most of them may be younger than him but that simply didn't mean that he could be anything more prepotent. Long before any of this, he was a man eager to machinate his way on top of everyone else, but his ignorance towards the awaited consequences had become the ultimate detriment of his precedence. He knew what his mistakes were; lessons were learned in the long process of acceptance. Nic wouldn't again dare to effectuate them, at least not when the memories of his losses still haunted him in his sleep.

A sheepish grin acknowledged Carmen's response to his offered handshake, relishing the moment brought by his bold attempt of accustoming camaraderie. A nod accompanied her spoken words, and afterwards, spared a quick glance to the rest of the SOLDIERs. The remaining half had put up their introductions. New names were delivered along with swiftly accompanied sentences to back up their individual character. So far, Nic was intrigued. He now has a personal assignment, of which was to know each of the cast and dig up whatever mysteries enshrouded by their own, respective universes.

Nic went back to Carmen, observing as her words enunciated what seemed to sound as meager antagonism, all aimed towards a man named Kain. He didn't intervene, and while he wanted to avoid any initial acts that could possibly perpetuate an argument, he felt as if he was in no position of doing so. Luckily, it was short-lived. When food was distributed, Nic intercepted with a cough, gesturing the meal's presence and how everyone should loosen up for a grand moment of indulgence.

He walked back to his seat, his drowsiness yet again reminding him of how weary he should be feeling. When he neared the table, his eyes met the man who was generous enough to prepare the feast. Nic greeted with a convinced smirk. Corr was his name, as he remembered.

"I-we ... appreciate the effort given. I gotta say that you're quite good at what you do. Keep it up, comrade!" Nic praised and with a quick pat on the man's back, he wasn't certain if that was enough to pay tribute towards the hard work, let alone give the deserved credit.

Everything seemed to commence into a joyous assembly. Each had taken the introductory platform and Nic was able to address some newly acquainted individuals. Rest would eventually find its way, but when an air raid siren wailed throughout proximity with its blaring screams suddenly hurting his head, it quickly became a distant achievement that could never be reached. It felt too soon for things to escalate, and while Nic has prepared himself ever since the initial briefing, he had hoped that he could at least find time to make up for his lack of sleep. Unfortunately that has to wait ... again. He then reached for his pack of cigars, pushing a stick out from its hold and placed it pressed between his lips. As the lighter tagged its flame at the cigar's tip, Nic inhaled the stirring scent of tobacco and released thick wraps of smoke. He watched the wispy trail disperse freely through the spacious establishment, then paid his immediate attention as an officer stepped inside. He sighed afterwards.


Aboard the Shyp // The Canal


The departure was swift with no time given to outline different details of the perils ahead. Though Nic was aware that it has already been reviewed right before their arrival to the encampment, it just seemed unceremonious for things to be abruptly carried out. Even with a simple need to be wished good luck, it was completely dismissed as desperation grew from how urgent the mission was becoming, or perhaps the officers just forgot. He found himself in a the same situation as before. Buckled in a cramped seat, struggling to sleep or even stay awake and worst was that Razgor kept on intruding his mind whenever his thoughts would drift away to somewhere distant. He took out a third cigar, striving to keep himself awake. There were only two left, and glancing at it prompted a sigh.

Combat boots drummed the steel flooring of the vessel, inadvertently composing a rhythmic beat that he wished none would notice. Wisps of smoke swept freely as he took a puff of his cigar. He fell silent for the duration of the trip. Opening up a conversation seemed to be the next attempt he would plan out, but his sleepiness started to take its toll. When he disposed the last bit of his cigar, his vision began to blur. Resisting immediately snapped him out to his senses, but the third attempt failed on doing so. In no time, Nic's consciousness sank as it was replaced by an inconvenient slumber.

Through a vast space of emptiness, there it was again. Images rippling out of nothingness, taking shape of an amorphous blob before it could finally manifest into something known to Nic. It was his family. Rosela and his daughter Selena were there, earnestly reaching for his embrace with glee painted into each of their smiles. He had known this dream before, he had known how excruciating it was to suffer from an elusive wonderland only to reveal a masqueraded nightmare. Nic resisted, his head hung low, sitting down and pulling his knees to his chest. He hid his eyes from the sight of his family, remaining to be curled almost like a ball.

Nicholaus ... Dad! ... Their voices echoed, repeating the same words until Nic would raise his head. He withstood, bringing together the strength he has left in his fortitude. But the voices refused to go away. Now unhappy, they sank into a deep guttural howl of manic. Screaming in its effort to express frustration, anger and disappointment. Nic froze in terror. He raised his head, knowing that the voices could no longer resemble his family's. Now it was a silhouette of a man shrouded by the murky fog. It was wielding a gun, a pistol from the looks of it. As Nic got to his feet, the weapon was aimed at him and instantly fired a shot the moment he took a step towards the harrowing figure. He felt the bullet in his chest, but he couldn't feel death following up. He was still standing, bloodied. When the figure vanished, the ground shook violently. Nic stumbled and fell to his knees. When a second wave struck, his eyes opened.

Freed from his restraints by someone he haven't caught doing, Nic lost his footing against the vessel's steel platform, falling hard towards a metal plate near a seat adjacent to his. His body slid, plummeting towards the direction headed to the pilot station. He moved his legs, arms struggling with his nails scraping the metal surface of the vessel. Luckily avoiding his descent, he grabbed a steel shaft of another seat, using it to climb himself back towards the upper levels of a now listed Shyp. Exhausting as it was, he finally got to the point where most of the SOLDIERs were. The doctor was up there. Natalya, as he remembered. The rest had already dove into the cold waters, but Nic was concerned if anyone was left behind or worse, descended down to the flooded depths.

"What happened?" Nic asked Natalya, his voice raised from the loud clattering of metal parts. It was an apparent incident, though he needed to know if there was an alleged attack or just a malfunction on the vessel's part. He wanted to ask where the others were, but time was seemingly running short. His thoughts focused quickly to Razgor, closing his eyes in an attempt to communicate. Threads of shadows swarmed his left shoulder, swirling to form conjoined spheres until a pluck of black feathers danced in motion and a pair of wings spanned out of nothingness. Six eyes glowed in red and a famished caw instilled a raven's manifestation. Nic's right eye altered into a crimson red colour, now sharing the bird's vision. The creature flipped its wings as it left in flight, hovering around the wreckage in search for anyone who could still be trapped underneath.

With the bird now summoned, Nic braced himself as he plunged into the cold waters.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by FantasyChic
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FantasyChic Poptarts and Glitter

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S O L D I E R. . .E N C A M P M E N T / / Z A L E R A. . . T U N D R A.


London put her feet up on the table as the others talked. The introductions went through her head, but she paid no mind to them. This was a means to and end in her book. She expected Angelius to take notes on the characters and, as shown already, he had his own feelings on all of them. From her little interactions, she could tell that they were an...interesting bunch of people. Perhaps this mission wouldn't be so boring.

She got a little ticked when Natalya mentioned her doctor training. Like..big whoop. All she had to do was shoot her specialized dart into someone from far away and they were healed. She kept quiet. Maybe she could focus just on shooting things than taking care of the injured. She paid attention to what team she was on especially. It didn't surprise her to be placed on the Infiltration team. As a sniper, she was trained to remain undetected and pick off enemies quickly and quietly. If the worse came to it, she could be deadly at close range. She also had her Aeon with her, though that was always a last resort. She'd rather not make use of their powers unless she really needed to.

She leaned her head back and let them talk on. She paid attention, of course. It would be stupid to ignore what she was supposed to do, but did they have to drone on and on?


T R A I N I N G G R O U N D A / / T W O Y E A R S A G O


"Shoot the targets."

The man clicked the timer watch with him as London pulled out her gun. The targets were far away. Almost invisible from the naked eye at her distance. She got on her stomach and popped the scope out. In quick succession, she shot 6 times. Each shot hit the target with a little ping noise. After the last shot, she stood up. The man stopped the watch and looked at it. "12 seconds. Could be better." He said with a short shake of the head. London scoffed. She was the best sniper. They knew it. She knew it. Why did she have to continue to prove herself.

"I dare any of you or your superiors to try to best me." she said and walked away. Leaving the man in a sort of bewildered state. She went out of the room and almost smacked into Sereena. The woman had Auburn hair always tied up and she look diginfied in her suit. Her face, though, bore contempt.

London didn't see the smack coming, but her cheek burned bright red.

London stood there a minute. She didn't show any emotion. She put a hand on her now red cheek and turned to face the woman. "Who do you think you are?" Before London could answer, Sereena held up a finger. "Not done yet. Where the hell do you think you are? I didn't choose you to give anyone lip. Regardless of your skills you have a lot to learn. You are not the best. You will never BE the best. There is always room for improvement. We don't train you for our twisted mind games, we train because outside these walls, there is danger everywhere. Anywhere. You never know when your team will be wiped out and you'll have to survive on your own, or you'll be captured and tortured for information, or your plane will be shot down and you'll have to swim for your life. That is why we train you. That is why I picked you. Because I know you will do great things. I didn't regeret it then, don't make me regret it now." With that, she continued walking forward, leaving London to stand there and comfort her cheek.

A B O A R D T H E S H Y P / / T H E C A N A L


It happened in a matter of moments. She had her eyes closed, her shades over her eyes as the Shyp made it's way to their destination. She let the others mill about and talk on their own. She mentally played through the mission in her head. Before she knew it, Angelius was in her head. He didn't get a word out before she felt the Shyp descend rapidly. Her stomach did a flip and she braced herself. She looked around her at the others, gauging their reactions. Before she knew it, they made splash down.

Water.

She could live with water. In fact, she felt she had the best chance out of all of them to survive this. However, the others were not. And damn it, she would need at least most of them alive. She picked herself up and checked herself. No injuries to speak of. She ran around the ship checking to see if anyone needed help. It seemed, for the most part, the others were ok. She quickly followed suit and jumped into the cold waters.

If anyone could see her, they may take a stunned second to see the woman almost glide in the water. The cold didn't bother her much. Water was her friend and ally. If Angelius was good for one thing, it was that she never feared being near water. She followed Carmen and Corbyn out into the waters and made for land.

They would have to regroup and determine the next best course of action.

She was right. This definitely was not boring.
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Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by Hexaflexagon
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Hexaflexagon

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S O L D I E R E N C A M P M E N T - Z A L E R A T U N D R A

“Hmmm. Oh. Don’t mention it.”

The steel covering of the foot locker pushed open upon soundless hinge. The wind battered the outside of the tent distorting the wailing calls which it carried. Running a hand through his hair he looked down at the contents of the locker. The large engine head of his staff, a harsh cube carved from a single portion meteoric ore whose contents contained whirring pieces of archaic machinery barely understood outside of Rabanastre; blade and pole hidden within the cube’s confines sealed until deployment. He dropped the piece of metal atop of the cot that had served as his bed for the past week, fabric pooling downwards from the newfound weight.

Quickly stripping down from his abundance of furs and cloth that covered his upper body. The chill of the tundra air a distant afterthought. He brought out a simple garment, long sleeved and black and almost alien to the touch. A moisture absorbing, quick drying, flame retardant and bullet dampening mixture of synthetic compounds and science that Corr didn’t care to look into - the only real piece of ‘military sanctioned’ gear that he owned. It clung tightly to the body like a second pair of skin. Checking to make sure everything was fitted properly he went about the process of redressing himself in his garbs of fur and cloth. They carried a surprising amount of weight to them partly from the sheer density of their entire assemblage and partly due to the thin ceramic plates woven and hidden amongst the strands. The whole process more like donning chainmail than it was a simple jacket or shirt.

As he finished tying the last of the bindings his eyes caught something tucked away at the bottom of the chest. Beneath a pile of loosely assembled papers with various degrees of hastily assembled handwriting, peaking out amongst the pages was a leather bound cover. Despite the gravity of the situation, a small smile crested along the corners of the mouth. Brushing the papers he looked down at the book. A gift from a lifetime ago, something serenely beautiful in its simplicity. A simple tuft of yellow stuck out from within the middle of the text. Cautiously like one disarms a bomb he plucked at the splash of yellow and pulled it from its confines.

Cradled in impossibly large hands was a small pressed flower, golden in hue. Long since dead it still managed to conjure up phantom visions of life. Particular smells and sounds dragged from resting places long buried in the recesses of the mind. A particular smile, a particular laugh.

Caught in his reverie he didn't notice another body enter the tent until a throat was cleared.

“Commander Rhinebeck? The Shyps are waiting.”

A steady hand repositioned the memento and dropped the book back into the foot locker resealing it with a well placed boot heel. He turned a smile breaking across his features as the sirens continued to wail in the background.

“I suppose they are.”

Aboard the Shyp


He sat down as pretty much as far back into the ship as was possible. His eyes flickered across the space searching for fleeting moments of human contact, giving out any last gazes of encouragement. Then easily they fell back to the ground focusing upon the slightly raised hills of the rivets holding the metal plating together.

He exhaled breath snaking out of nostrils in a small plume of white. His face a mask of concentration as he dwell upon the state of affairs. He already didn’t like the mission from the start. It felt the wind before a storm heavy and filled with bad news. And now the added complications only seemed to further spell bad omens to come. A sane man may have protested but Corr was not a sane man he was a brave one. He was there to protect people, he had a job to do and he wouldn't stop until that job was done.

He buckled in the heavy restraints effectively pinning himself to the chair given that such things were not typically designed for such a creature of his stature. Giving the straps an experimental tug which didn’t do much to assure his own worries he pushed his head back against the wall of the craft feeling the metal vibrate as it slowly began to take off from the ground. The quiet rumbling, a low comfortable static to his buzzing aerial slowly fading away into peaceful oblivion.

_______

When his eyes opened his was in a familiar space. An empty expanse of darkness stretching all around and all consuming. Corr didn’t dream per say anymore, nor was he plagued by nightmares. Instead he had whatever this was. He stood alone in the darkness, stark naked and impossibly cold. Somewhere ahead of him impossibly far like the sun upon the horizon was a gargantuan figure sitting atop a throne. The light being cast from it harsh in the surrounding darkness, making it impossible to truly perceive the Giant. The great rumbling cacophony that he had become accustomed to over the years sounded out all around vibrating through his body from head to toe.

Corr gritted his teeth at unwanted sensation. Taking a single step forward he found the ground as it were beneath him sink. The ink like texture grabbing and sticking to flesh. He grunted out of frustration as he ripped the foot upward and took another step towards the glowing figure in the distance. Another step moving forward even as the figure seemed to grow more and more distant. The rumbling still continuing.

His voice rang outward even as his mouth remained close, echoing and amplifying. It filled the space overpowering the rumble, a singular question.

“What do you want?!”

▲̷͞▲̛͞▲̀͏̀͟

The rumbling intensified, the ground shifted and seemed to spin driving Corr down to one knee. The dark ink-like substance that made up the floor sneaking up the flesh of the leg like a tendril. He reached a heavy hand down and grabbed at the black substance ripping it away from his leg and throwing it to the ground as he stood up. He took a single step forward feeling the terrain give even more resistance to his movement, trying to stop him, trying to consume him.

“I . D O . N O T . U N D E R S T A N D . Y O U .”

▲͘͡҉̛͟▲̵̧▲̨̀͜͟͡

He sensed it before it happened something impossibly large driving into his back. He fell plummeting face first towards the ground. Before where it was like a thick molasses now it shattered beneath him like glass. Yet he did not fall, rather it was like the whole floor had flipped with him in a roll forward, his feet never leaving the ground. When he looked up he was now at the feet of the Giant. The human like shaped blurred by the intensity of the heat, skin screaming outward in pain like standing next to burning napalm. His body froze, muscle tightened and he couldn't move. What was that feeling. Fear? Awe? He couldn't quite tell.

The Giant leaned down form it’s thrown bringing up a hand - so big it could cup the world in its palm, down towards Corr. A single finger reaching towards him. His vision filled with the glowing light, blinding him.

When his eyes opened he was no longer at the ‘feet of the Giant’, he was above the canal that he knew they would be crossing soon. It was day and the sky around him was a perfect shadow of boundless blue. And then he was falling, falling, falling. The waters approaching his vision closer and closer. As he neared the surface it exploded upward, a human face being crafted from the rushing waters. It’s jaws opened and swallowing the man. And then there was darkness once more.

T H E C A N A L


Eyes focused upon a simple light fixture. A green ready light casting its quiet emerald glow over the surrounding darkness. Somewhere in his periphery words were being spoken but they were distant like they were underwater. He could feel himself slowly pitching downward. Clarity rushed back to the brain. The words becoming clear.

“Brace-!"

An eternity later the force of the descent lead in one hell of a crash. The restraints mind to hold down smaller individuals flexed, buckled and finally snapped sending Corr smashing into the opposite wall. He managed to pitch his body mid flight in such a way that the broadside of his back took most of the impact. For normal people such a hit probably would of snapped the spine, for most SOLDIERs it might of left a bruise, Corr barely felt it. He body slumped to the floor of the Shyp in an ever increasing pool of frigid water. Making a sound akin to a stricken ox he reached up to find purchase to pull himself up. Hands slipping on now drenched material.

He felt something grab at him and with surprising amounts of strength help yank him to his feet. He stood face to face with Natalya. Nodding his thanks he moved forward. Ahead of him voices swallowed by screaming metal and rushing water he saw some of the others moving towards the crack in the metal which seemed to be their only exit. He moved forward as he watched them disappear into the rushing water. He pushed his way through the water with his greater height it not being as much of an issue as it was for some. He felt the chill pull and gnaw at his skin and bones beneath his clothing. A small crack burst on the wall to the left of him splattering his face. The whole ship groaned in protest as light alloys designed for aerodynamics not for surviving rapids continued to buckle and distort all around them.

Corr raised an arm which began glow harshly illuminating the darkened interior. Casting light about dark thrashing water and the surrounding interior giving those inside something of an easier path to navigate. He beckoned the other forward heavy hands steadying their progress and in some cases out right ferrying them to the exit as the water threatened to swallow their smaller forms in the ever increasing deluge. He did dive nor would he until the others had all gotten out. He was confident enough in his ability to swim. Memories of diving into the rushing rapids in the forests adjacent to the monastery and seeing how quickly he could get out. Memories of having to scrubs the floor for weeks in retribution for the gray hairs he had caused.

Beside it's what he did, protect people. Corr never claimed to be big on the whole self-preservation thing.

"Come on people this shit ain't gonna hold for much longer!"
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Hidden 8 yrs ago Post by AmongHeroes
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AmongHeroes ♤ LOST ♤

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//T H E S H Y P//

The low light of the Shyp’s interior bathed the matte jet of Sammael’s armor a dusky crimson. Enveloped completely in the suit, his face and head covered with the featureless helmet, the SOLDIER appeared like an arbiter of the angel of death. Before him, resting upon the tip of its sheath, Sammael’s sword stood suspended by gloved hands.

Within his grasp, the weapon seemed to quiver. It was not the shudder of the Shyp’s mechanisms that flowed through the blade. No. This was a predatory, anxious hum that welled up from within the ghostly metal. Sammael held a demon bent on drawing blood in the name of righteous cleansing.

“Agony to enlightenment.” Spoke the Aeon.



“Again!”

The harsh clack of hardwood striking against hardwood was immediate. Blood, diluted with beads of sweat was flung into the air, only to descend in harsh splatters upon the polished planks of the practice floor.

Sammael reeled backwards, his bare feet struggling to keep him upright. Dressed in dark robes, now drenched with perspiration, Samm brought his practice sword up in a high guard. Blood moved in small rivulets down the valleys of his wrists and forearms—the product of torn knuckles, and broken fingers. His face was little better. Puckered with bruises, and oozing splits across his cheek bones, the handsome man that had first enlisted in SOLDIER was barely a missive of his former self.

In his ears Samm’s heart thrummed with painful clarity. Every muscle and joint ached, and cried to be allowed to release the tension it held within like a cracked dam. To his very soul, every ounce of him cried for respite. Hours had passed in this manner, and the wounds only compounded upon themselves, stacking in painful malice towards the body the bore them. Solace was a foolhardy desire; Teacher allowed no such solace.

With a firm exhalation of breath, Teacher lunged forward. The stern man’s wooden sword swung in a precise arc, moving like the head of a scorpion’s tail towards a battered Sammael. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, Samm flinched to parry. His own sword came up, sliding forward to intercept Teacher’s weapon at the apex of his attack. A satisfying CLACK crashed forth as the weapons came together, their force crying outward into the heavy air. Samm began the first instances of his next motion, willing the synapses in his brain to move his body into a counterstrike to Teacher’s exposed stomach.

This instant was for not. In that bare, raw moment—that eternity spanning only the breadth of a lightning strike—Teacher took him. With a speed born of near preternatural skill, Teacher moved beneath Samm’s guard. The hilt of the master’s sword flicked outward, pummeling Samm like the horns of a bull just beneath the contour of his rib cage.

Air was forced from his lungs. His eyes splayed wide in stunned surprise. The wooden sword in his hands fell, as fingers instantaneously lost their strength. Samm crumpled over his stomach, landing hard upon his knees. Gasping and retching, the world around him seemed to whirl and fade.

Teacher stepped forward. Reaching down, the master clutched a shock of Sammael’s drenched blond hair. Yanking it up, he lifted the student’s face to the sky.

“Pain,” Teacher hissed, “…is the ultimate master. Learn from her. Embrace her.”

“Agony to enlightenment.”




//T H E C A N A L//

Sammael’s eyes blazed open. Though unseen behind his mask, the pupils bled white, until all was an ivory orb. Ither’s awareness was taking over now, and Samm was listening.

”Danger. Falling. Water.”

The Aeon’s sensations came just as the lurch of the Shyp cracked into reality. A litany of confused and warning cries filled the interior of the vessel, punctuating Samm’s cognition. Deftly, Samm brought his arms to cross his chest. His sword found its way into the mag-lock servos at his back, while his strong hands tightened the crash straps of the harness.

Samm’s jaw clenched as the sound of rending metal joined with a rush of air, and the roar of the Shyp’s failing engines. The Shyp listed to the side like a wounded animal, and crashed downward so quickly that Samm could feel his throat fill with bile. He swallowed it back, just as the Shyp hit the water like so much dead flotsam.

The shock of the impact traveled up Samm’s spine, and through his limbs. Even in the confines of his helmet, his teeth jarred together, leaving him with a ringing in his ears. Yet Ither was feeding his mind and muscles their commands, and Samm harnessed the ethereal awareness. As water first struck at his ankles, Samm had freed himself from the crash harness. Standing upon the floundering craft’s floor and seats, Samm braced himself with his arms. Looking about, he could see that his comrades were in various states of disarray and reorientation. Training and skill were taking over, and the SOLDIERS were rising to the occasion.

A command came above the din. Something about getting free of the wreckage, and finding shore. With his mind afire, Samm scanned the interior one last time. He could see Natalya had already begun the work of yanking those still within their harnesses free, and shoving them towards the crack in the hull. The glowing beacon of Corr’s arm added clarity to the chaotic darkness, and gave a face to the roiling water that was rushing inside.

Seeing that no one was being left behind, Samm followed behind Corbyn. Diving headlong into the water, Samm used powerful strokes to guide him through the giant crack in the Shyp’s hull that Carmen had found. Free from the Shyp, Samm let his natural buoyancy glide him to the surface. Chopping waves and wind met him, giving him staccato flashes of the burning Shyp, and the silhouettes of his comrades.

Treading water, Samm rotated until he was oriented towards the shore. Several of the team had already begun their journey towards that destination, and he fell into line behind them. Between strokes, Samm’s eyes lifted to the sky. The distinctive form of a great bird could be seen against the clouds.

”Death dealers. Heretics.”

Samm’s focus immediately went to the smudged form of the shoreline, though he could see little amidst the waves and spray. There was something or someone there, however. Something that would do the SOLDIERS harm.

“Commander,” Samm yelled. His voice came through his mask distorted and harsh, yet clear above the natural din. “Carmen, I believe we have enemies nearby. The shoreline may be covered.”

Twisting mid swim, Samm found Nicholaus. “Your bird,” Samm said. “Can it scan the shoreline? We need to be ready once we reach the beach, and there are surely bad-actors waiting for us.”
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