[IC] Valkyria Chronicles: Lions of the South

[Raven_Operative]

Evan's Post

"I." *Crack* "AM NOT." *CrackCrack* "A RIFLEMAN!!!" *CrackCrack-PING!* Evan spoke between shots, as he emptied the magazine of his service rifle in the general direction of the scout. Predictably he had missed every shot, but Stichler had managed to score a few hits, finishing the job for him. When Sergeant Harald rallied up the group to make a final attack on the trio of Squad Six's remaining soldiers, he reluctantly left the machine gun behind and joined in with them. Again, his lack of skill with a rifle prevented him from actually hitting any of the troops, but the addition of one more person to the firing line helped suppress them long enough for other (more competent) members to flank around and deal with them.

As the training exercise came to a close, Evan dusted himself off, collected his gear, and smiled. This had been a good mission. "Nicely done, Darcsen. We finally beat the bastards!"

[Lennon79]

High atop the observation tower, Meulemann extended one hand expectantly to another officer, grinning slyly at his comrade's annoyance. '... Ambushing is a coward's tactic... but fair's fair. Take your damn money... sir.' She stalked off to the ladder in a tiff, disappearing down the ladder with fire in her eyes. Squad Six was in for one hell of a beasting... Tarquin had taken a bit of a shine to Squad Four, part of the reason he hadn't assigned them a Lieutenant like the other squads; there was always the option to do so later, he reasoned, or else take command personally. He keyed the tannoy system. 'Cease fire, cease fire. End exercise, I repeat endex. Squad Six, assemble at your starter area and await Lieutenant Gelens' instruction. Squad Four is dismissed and to reassemble on the parade square at 1500 hours. Well fought, all of you.' With the show over and a few hundred ducats burning a hole in his pocket, Tarquin took his leave and stopped in at the NAAFI before heading back to his office. Regimental Command had recently issued warning orders for a large scale offensive and he had volunteered his company to be the vanguard; now he just had to plan the damn thing...

---

'You know what, I think we did...' Harald's reply conveyed more relief than it really should, revealing how uncertain he had been about the plan. In all honesty he had expected it all to go tits up, perhaps due to one of the more individualist squad members doing something out of turn. It was proof of the squad's growing sense of cohesion that the plan had actually worked out. Once everyone had rallied on his position, Harald removed his helmet and sparked up a post-combat cigarette. His trademark laid-back grin had grown even wider than usual. 'Cracking good job, team. Woe betide the poor bastards who let you flank that tank; they'll be on PT for the next twelve hours.' Despite the inherent unfairness of the match, Squad Four had come off very well; only a handful of casualties versus an entire squad with armoured support wiped out. But his expression hardened. 'Pat yourselves on the back, but listen closely. I will not tolerate a single casualty in the real thing. Jatmoore, keep your head down as you run or you'll lose it. Meyers, pick your targets with more care and only fire when you've got sound cover; they had you marked from the first shot. And you, Bons... Don't be a bellend. Stay in cover when you fire.' Ignoring Alonso's dirty glare, the Sergeant dismissed the squad and sent them back to the barrack house. There were a few hours before next duty and they had acquitted themselves well in the exercise; they had earned a bit of rest.

[Raven_Operative]

Lilly's Post

"...Sir..." Lilly sloppily came to attention as she was addressed. Her tiredness had caught up with her after she was shot, and she had very nearly fallen asleep while laying in the grass 'dead'. She didn't think that a better running posture would have helped her much in her previous situation (she was shot square in the side), but Sergeant Harald had a valid point. She did have a tendency of panicking and flailing when under fire, so she would need to work on that. "Yes, Sir... I will endeavor to improve on that." She forcefully held back a yawn as the Sergeant moved on to talk to the others. The fact that they had won greatly pleased her, but she was far too tired to revel in their victory. Right now she was more focused on walking one step at a time, and not collapsing as she truly wanted to do. Maybe their success here might sooth her nightmares...

After the squad was dismissed, Lilly saw various different members chatting with each other about the battle as they headed back to the barracks. Normally she would have loved to talk with some of them (particularly Glaive, who she did not know what happened to), but she was far too tired at the moment. Trudging back to her quarters without saying a word to the others, she collapsed on her bunk, not even bothering to dust herself off or close the door to the sleeping quarters. Her sleep was still haunted by night terrors, but this time was thankfully not severe enough to wake her up. Though she would wake up drenched in sweat, she would be thankful for the full rest. Waking up in the middle of her nap would have hurt her chances of making it through the rest of the day with some semblance of consciousness.

Evan's Post

While the rest of the squad were allowed to go back to the barracks, Evan's work was not yet done. Walking back out to the field, he retrieved the APC's machine gun and spent the next half hour cleaning and remounting it. This was his squad's vehicle, and he was going to be damn sure that it was in tip-top shape.

Once he was sure that the quality of his work was satisfactory, Evan headed back to the barracks, wondering what the rest of the squad was doing. He bumped into the sergeant on the way back, nodding and tossing him a quick greeting before continuing on. "That was a good battle, Darcsen." Let it never be said that Evan refused to acknowledge a job well done. He might not like talking with the dark hairs, but if he saw something noteworthy he was sure to comment on it.

When he arrived at the barracks, Evan headed immediately for the common area and took a seat on the couch. Addressing everyone who wasn't currently involved in a conversation, his loud voice asked "Sooo.... How did everyone do?".

[Kitsune]

'Cease fire, cease fire. End exercise, I repeat endex. Squad Six, assemble at your starter area and await Lieutenant Gelens' instruction. Squad Four is dismissed and to reassemble on the parade square at 1500 hours. Well fought, all of you.'

Alex moved up towards the gathering team members she made sure to give a wave before she reached there because of the little bit of confusion due to what was on her head. Her hand reaching up to tap at the helmet she was now wearing, one of squad ones, that made a small ting sound as she did so. She wanted a trophy of sorts, even if it was for the time being, since they had truly against such odds! However their commander was right, some of them got killed and if they ran out of luck...

"Understood."

She said firmly before listening to everything else he had to say, but before long they were dismissed to go and rest until the meeting at 1500. The young women would head towards the showers, where she would take the helmet off outside, her roots of discolored hair showing for a moment as she slipped her cap back on to head into the shower stalls. If uninterrupted she would likely arrive at 1500, well rested at that, though that may have been the fact she was still a little excited about winning and had not even come close to hitting a wall yet.

[Slypheed]

Celeste

The battle was fun, if one could even consider it that. Though, Celeste didn't consider her little snap to be fun, in fact, it had tired her out some. She stood at attention while the Sergeant addressed some of the squad, she would have addressed them as well if she had paid attention to some of them. But things were just a bit too hectic to pay attention to anyone else's tactic of survival other than her own.

Once they were dismissed, Celeste went back to the barracks to relax some before she went and took a shower herself. She didn't want to collapse in the showers. And while she relaxed, she wondered what people thought of her little snap, and it made her quite nervous, hopping she didn't offend anyone or make their views of her rather sour. Celeste carried this nervous feeling to the showers.

Brenna

Brenna was admittedly bummed, she hadn't seen much action outside of rescuing their sniper. She haphazardly stood at attention, not really interested in what the darcsen had to say. Yeah his plan had worked better than she thought, but it wasn't enough to earn her respect. This was only a simulated battle, with no control. Brenna just stared at the Sergeant with an empty stare, wondering if he'd man up and control the situation in a real battle.

After they were dismissed, Brenna immediately went off to the showers. After her shower, she found a more hidden spot to sit in. She just stared at the sky, no sketch pad this time. Brenna was just too tired to draw anything, she also slouched in her spot, relaxing for a bit, and getting some space from the others.

[Lennon79]

'And you, Bons... Don't be a bellend.'

As everyone split up to shower and rest, Alonso took off on his own. The Sergeant's words had hurt, not only because he had succeeded in hitting the tank, but also because they were right. He knew full well that pulling something like that would have gotten him killed in a real battle, but for the life of him, Alonso couldn't come up with a better idea in that situation. Would it be the same when he faced the Imperials again? Would he end up making another stupid decision and end up dying due to stupidity? If nothing else, the practice battle had really hammered home his own vulnerability and now... Alonso found himself markedly less eager to hit the front lines.

---

1455 March 29th 1935 EC
Parade Ground, Fort Breda

Striding purposefully across the concrete parade ground, Captain Meulemann rifled through the papers he had been working on the the last few hours. The mission ahead was deceptively simple, but had plenty of pitfalls that his troops could fall through, especially Squad Four. The rest of the company would be briefed the next day when they prepared for full mobilisation of the division, but a select few had to be sent out first, to prepare the way. Seeing him coming, the squad quickly organised themselves into a line and saluted. 'At ease, all of you. For the next week or so, you can consider that a standing order. I'd rather not be flagged as a target for every sniper within half a mile...' Tarquin smiled dryly, unaware that gallows humour might not have been the best way to keep them relaxed. 'If you would follow me, I shall explain forthwith the details of our first deployment.'

The Captain led them to a small awning lined with chairs before a large map of central Gallia, replete with information on suspected enemy forces and their locations. A single city was highlighted in red; Vasel. 'In a week's time, the Militia will launch a general assault on the city of Vasel with the aim of securing a vital river crossing. With this choke-point under our control, Imperial forces in the north will be cut off from their supplies and the Army can begin their own offensive eastward.' Essentially the entire Militia operation was in support of the regular Army, albeit without their support in return. But the battle for Vasel itself wasn't the squad's problem. 'In order to lay the groundwork for our assault, several squad will be deployed ahead of the main forces to secure crossroads and scout enemy positions. You will be one of these pathfinding units, operating on your own initiative until the rest of the Militia catches up with you. From there you will be placed in reserve, in case the main battle becomes too... costly.'

Tarquin paused for a moment, taking the time to look each soldier in the eye. In some he saw fear, in others determination, even the odd hint of anticipation. Good, he thought. A solid balance of eagerness and trepidation makes for a good soldier. '... Your first objective in the village of La Haye Sainte, thirty-four miles north of Randgriz. It is little more than a hamlet; a handful of farms and a shop, all abandoned by now. However it is also a strategically vital crossroad which links the route to Vasel with a major east-west road.' The Captain turned away and removed the map from the stand it rested on, replacing it with a smaller one of the village itself. 'You have two objectives within La Haye Sainte; first, rout or destroy any Imperial presence. Second, lay mines to interdict armoured movement along the east-west road.' The briefing was somewhat lacking in detail, but this was simply all the intelligence they had on Imperial movements. If Tarquin had it his way, they wouldn't bother with these light infantry screens; instead the entire division would simply march up and kick down the door. Maybe one day when he was a General things might be different, but for today... '... Any questions?'

---

1530 March 29th 1935 EC
Undisclosed Location, Gallia

'Sir! The tanks are refuelled and ready for the field test, sir!' Lieutenant Marcus Beirmann returned the tech's crisp salute and ordered his crew back to their vehicle with a click of the finger. As they prepped the tank for combat, he marched off to a nearby tent to relay the news. 'Major Mooringstar, ma'am. We are ready to begin. May I respectfully suggest that you remain here and observe?' He knew his superior well enough to know she would refuse, but it was worth a try. As he awaited her reply, Marcus took a long look about the camp, revelling in the glory that was Squadron 655. The Empire's armoured formations were legion, but of them all Sqrn 655 was unique; made up of only the best and most decorated crew, equipped with the bleeding edge of Europan experimental tanks and of course, commanded by the savant, Major Lynette Mooringstar. Marcus himself was a well-known ace, having earned his Iron Cross hunting Federation tanks in close quarters combat in the streets of a dozen continental cities. He focused his attention back on the commander, chiding himself for the momentary distraction.

[Zarkun]

James stood at ease off to one side of the others, having not been formally introduced to the squad, or even into as it stood. Stepping forward, he clears his throat just loud enough to be heard. "Sir, La-sorry, still adjusting to the new rank. Private First Class James Hunt reporting to duty. I've been attached to the Militia until further notice from command with the regular army." At least, that's how Captain Riserre had put it when he'd personally handed James his orders to be sent to the Militia. He'd also happily informed the former Lance Corporal of his demotion, which made James groan at the thought of another six months of getting his rank back. Upon his arrival, he'd been assigned to Squad 4, who was resting and preparing for the evening muster and briefing.

So in the interim, he'd set to figuring out who was the commanding officer of Squad 4 so he knew who to report to and found that he, unfortunately, couldn't find anyone that knew. One of the lieutenants even said that the captain hadn't assigned one to them yet. As he stood there waiting for a response, he began to wonder why. Maybe he's going to take command for himself?

[Bright_Ops]

After hearing about some of the details of the practice battle and the surprise victory of Squad 4, Andrew had taken some time to consider the group that he would soon be joining up with. While he was certain that mistakes had been made by the members of Squad 4 and that members of the squad were lost because of them, they had proven themselves quick thinkers who could adept to the situation and if given enough time could come up with a plan to deal with a better equipped force.

All in all, a good squad to join up with.

As he stood at ease as the current plan was explained to Squad 4 by the Co and another transfer stepped forwards to introduce himself, Andrew took a deep breath before stepping forwards as well. "Sir, Private First Class Andrew Macdonald reporting for duty. I've been transferred to Squad Four from the ninth Militia Regiment, fifth Company due to the disbandment of the fifth company."

[Slypheed]

Brenna

The mission seemed pretty simple. Eliminate any enemy presence, then lay mines to interdict any armored movement. Brenna felt pretty confident in their success, though she'd never show it. Doing her best to keep her stoic appearance, and attitude on the outside. She did turn her attention to the newcomers. One was from the disbanded fifth company, or so he said. The other had come from the army, and that made her curious as to why the army would send someone to the Militia, other than to take over this unit. Though with a rank similar to hers, it seemed highly improbable that would be true.

Celeste

Celeste just stared at the map as the briefing went on. She was listening to the plan, but wondering what they would encounter upon arrival. And then any armor their mines might interdict. It seemed pretty easy to her anyway, even if she wouldn't be able to do much in terms of helping the squad. She didn't look too confident, but that was related to confidence in her own abilities. Celeste actually felt rather confident in the abilities of the others. Her attention focused first on the Sergeant, wondering what he was thinking, and what plan he was making. She also wondered if she'd be brought into that process.

Celeste shifted nervously a little, never really certain if any plan she'd make would be a good one or if it would get those in the squad killed. But then her attention shifted to the newcomers. The one from fifth didn't grab her attention for very long, but the army one. Wondering if he was legitimately sent here as a new soldier for the squad, or someone acting as a new soldier to see a militia squads effectiveness on the battlefield.

---

Lynette

Lynette looked over the map of the area. The terrain seemed favorable for the vehicle, sadly they were only allowed to field test one. The other finished one would be allowed to fight if these tests went well. But it wasn't long before she was approached, by the man who was to be commanding the tank. Informing her that they were ready to being the field testing. "Understood. And I will be staying, I'd like to see it's performance." She turned to look at him, her face expressionless. "You will put it through it's paces won't you?"

[Raven_Operative]

Lilly's Post

Well at least it wasn't city combat. Lilly shivered from nervousness as they received their briefing, but was relieved to hear that they would be attacking a small village, rather than fighting room-by-room through claustrophobic city buildings and alleys. Her performance in her first battle was absolutely embarrassing, but now that she had some training, Lilly had begun to see why she had such a hard time (nerves aside, of course). Too many alleys and windows to watch split her attention and nervousness meant that her performance was unreliable in close combat, where reflexes played a significant role. A small village would mitigate this somewhat, and the fact that they finally had proper equipment to deal with tanks made her a bit more confident in their ability to succeed.

...Though if she were completely honest, she would admit that the thought of actual combat still terrified her.

The new arrivals piqued Lilly's curiosity somewhat. PFC Hunt, because he was transferred from the actual army, and PFC Macdonald for what it signified for the militia. Why would the army be giving away it's soldiers to mere militia? And why would 5th company have disbanded? The militia must be in the middle of some major restructuring to be more efficient, or that was what she allowed herself to think. In the back of her head, memories of the slaughter at Rinneheim hinted to her that it might be less about efficiency and more about lack of troops.

Evan's Post

"Cap'n!" Evan called out when Meulemann asked if the squad had any questions. "What's my APC gonna be doing? Can't drive out in the open if there's tanks, and there'll only be a few spots to stash it in a village." Evan had been thoroughly disappointed at the lack of proper armour their APC had when he inspected it. It wasn't his style to sit back and cower behind a wall, hopin' a tank wouldn't guess his position and blow a hole through both their cover and paper thin side armour. Armour was supposed to spearhead assaults, charging gloriously into combat! This Imp peice of shit, while fast, was no where near suited to that. And it bugged him.

When the two new guys introduced themselves, Evan smiled and nodded in greeting to them. More bodies to the squad was always good. Less chance of getting overrun by sheer numbers.

[Lennon79]

As the Captain went through his briefing, Harald let his gaze wander across the squad. In addition to the regular crew, a few more bodies had appeared; transfers most likely, although the Sergeant hadn't been informed as yet... Not for the first time did he gumble inwardly over Meulemann's decision not to give the squad a proper officer. He paid close attention to the briefing as well, although this at least he had been forewarned of; Squad Four had more than just the one objective and the buck had been passed to him as squad leader to plan their subsequent checkpoints on the road to Vasel. It took some time to go over the details of the operation, even though the briefing given was intentionally left vague; as a pathfinding unit, Squad Four would be expected to make their own decisions in the field. Harald made his first now. 'We will be taking the APC.' He gave Carn a reassuring nod as Meulemann nodded vaguely. 'But we most likely stash it a few miles out from each objective, so give us some chance of surprising the Imps.' The Captain offered a sheaf of forms to the driver, smiling dryly. 'Indeed; adequate noise and light discipline will be essential for this deployment, which is why I'm allocating Squad Four complete access to the vehicle armoury for this evening. Ensure that your vehicle is fitted with a low-light vision system and some engine mufflers. There may be a few other bits and pieces lying around, armour and cannon perhaps...' His smile turned more conspiratorial as Meulemann gave Carn a wink.

He turned his attention back to the others, raising his eyebrows as if asking for any other questions. At this point the two transfers stepped forward to introduce themselves. 'Welcome, both of you. I apologise for the lack of a welcoming ceremony, but in the circumstances I believe you will forgive me. Sergeant Harald here is your new NCO and is currently CO of the squad.' He didn't give a reason as to why a Sergeant was holding down an officer's role, merely nodding to the man in question. Harald cleared his throat stoically, giving the two of them an appraising look. Hunt was certainly an oddity; transfers from the Army were almost unheard of. He must have seriously pissed someone off to land that kind of demotion... MacDonald was less unusual, another victim of the Militia's constant restructuring. If only it were a permanent formation and not just an adhoc, well militia then perhaps it wouldn't have had these teething problems... As it was there were admin issues everywhere, leading to over or understrength units, entire companies not issues weapons and apparently even the odd company being disbanded. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that the Army mocked them so hard... Harald gave them both a crisp salute, but smiled companionably. 'Welcome to Squad Four. We're a bit understrength due to a few wash-outs, so I'm glad to have able bodied men.' He waved to the others, introducing them in turn. 'Corporal Stichler, my 2iC and lancer, Dresner and Sykora on the SMGs and we've got Jatmoore, Fairglaive and Meyers as our eyes. Bons and Carn are engineers mainly, dealing with explosives and vehicles respectively.' As he wound down to the end of the introductions, Harald gave a start as if remembering something important. 'And me, well... I just shoot shit. What about the two of you?' Combat roles were generally allocated during training but tended to result in overspecialisation. Come to think of it he would have loved to train everyone on a few extra weapons, but time was of the essence. Perhaps after Vasel. The Sergeant was too busy talking to notice Meuelemann quietly collecting his paperwork and slinking off without drawing attention to himself. The old man had several more briefings to give before the day was out.

[Zarkun]

James returned the Sergeant's salute and listened to him speak and describe everyone's job. At least he wouldn't be the only Scout in the unit. And he liked the Sergeant's description of what he did. "And me, well... I just shoot shit. What about the two of you?" James thought about joking around, seeing how easy it was to get a laugh out of the guy, but decided against it. Pulling his Gallian-3R, he pats it lovingly, despite some of the strange looks it garnered.

"I'm a scout, Sergeant. Go out and look over enemy positions and strength and relay it back along with medium range fire support. I have put in for training as a Sniper, but command hasn't gotten back to me on that yet." He wasn't going to let on that it was his life long dream to be one of the ace headhunters in the army, a guy who spent all day every day picking off Imps from a long ways off and then watching the others scramble around for cover. The thought made him smile a bit. He then looked at the other new guy, MacDonald, and waited for his reply. Though his equipment was a self explanatory thing. Lancer. Can never have too many of those when dealing with armor.

[Raven_Operative]

Evan's Post

Evan's eyes shone with excitement as the forms were handed over. This was his specialty! Mechanical jobs like this were where he excelled! With a brief shout of "Sir!", he took off running towards the APC to drive it into the garage. He had much work to do, and not nearly enough time to do it. When he pulled into the vehicle bay, he looked around and noticed that the mechanics were surprisingly less busy than usual. That was good. He was a bit early but since they didn't have many outstanding duties, they could get to work immediately.

Jumping down from the APC, he gathered the idle mechanics with a shout. "You there! Yes, you seven. Get over here, we have a lot of work to do!" When one of the mechanics protested, asking just who the hell he thought he was, he grinned and threw the bundle of forms at the man. "Your boss for the next 12 hours. Now gather 'round, here's what we have to do..."

...

Phew... Evan wiped his brow as he took a step back from the APC and examined the work in progress. They still had a few hours left in the day and the work wasn't done yet, but he had to admit the other mechanics had been doing an impressive job of keeping everything on track. The night optics got installed quickly, and the wire armour he had requested was nearly installed. The only thing left to do was to finish attaching this damn muffler, which was proving uncooperative. Damn imp piece of shit... Of course nothing Gallia had in stock fit perfectly, so he had been busy trying to jam a muffler onto an exhaust pipe a tenth of an inch too large. Crawling back under the APC he began tinkering away again. "Lets see... if we grease this spot... Come on.. Get in there you damn. Piece of... GGGHHHAAAAAAA!!" Try as he might, even with his impressive amount of strength, he could not get the muffler to settle into place. Damn it... He was going to have to get a machinist to modify this, wasn't he... Marking a few points with his chalk, Evan crawled out, cracked his back and started walking over to the machine shop. Hopefully they'd be able to get everything fixed up within a few hours, otherwise the darcsen was going to be a very unhappy man.

...

On the way back, Evan spied something unusual being carried through the shop. A pair of soldiers were carrying in an 80mm recoilless rifle with a broken stand, no doubt to be given to the machinists for repairs. ... If he didn't intercept it, that was. Calling over in a booming voice, Evan approached the two grunts. "Ho there, Soldiers, where's this rifle off to?" "Oh, uh,... the firing range, after it's stand gets fixed. The officers want us to set it up for training new recruits." Evan grinned as he reached into his pocket and retrieved another acquisition sheet. Tossing it to one of the soldiers, he replied "Not anymore. Get the machinists to put that thing on a vehicle mounting and bring it over to the APC. We need it a lot more than you." His aquisition complete, Evan went back to assisting the other mechanics with installing the last bits of wire armour. Still grinning at the fortune of being able to nab one of those rifles, he whistled a merry tune. It might not have as much punch as a lance, but it had longer range, better accuracy, and a much faster rate of fire. NOW they might stand a chance if they encountered an enemy tank.

Lukas' Post

2nd Lieutenant Lukas Glockner finished loading the ammunition into the prototype tank's turret and magazines, and began to start testing the turret's rotation and gun handleing. Good... Good... Good... Uh... That's a little stiff. Better loosen that bolt... Squad 655 was going to be deploying to test this tank out soon, and he was going to make damn sure that none of the parts he was responsible for failed. Lets see... Right, Left, Up, Down, Load, Unload... Good. Lukas ran through his drills several more times, making absolutly sure that everything was indeed 'fine', before climbing out of the turret and jumping down to the ground. A tank gunner was only as good as his gun, and he was not going to let his stellar reputation be destroyed by negligance.

As luck (or unluck) would have it, Lukas had landed just as his senior officer walked by to inspect the tank. Saluting Lieutenant Beirmann, Lukas quickly rattled off his report. "Sir! The ammunition is loaded, and the weapons and turret systems are fully functional. Everything is in order and we are ready for feild testing, Sir!" Lukas had a phenominal amount of respect for Beirmann, but also equally feared him for his reputation and senior rank. He never really spoke to the man outside of what was what it was his duty to report, so he was always a bit nervous around him.

[Bright_Ops]

The fact that their new commanding officer was a Sergeant was a little surprising to Andrew, but what really caught his attention was the fact that the man was a darcsen. That was a good sign! Considering that a lot of organizations maintained a culture of stopping Darcsen's at the door, if not outright dragging them off and breaking their legs in a metaphysical sense, the fact that a darcsen had been able to raise high enough to achieve a commanding rank was a sign that he was good enough at his job that even the bigots and the zealots that no doubt made up the man's superiors couldn't brush his achievements aside or deny him promotion to sergeant.

Cracking a small smile at the man's joke and waiting until James the army transfer was done before throwing in his own two cents "If you can't tell I'm a lancer myself. Already had my trial by fire with my old company; Killed enough pieces of imperial trash to get a medal for it. I would like to earn more Sir." It wasn't much of a joke, but a stab at humor was better then nothing.

[Slypheed]

Celeste

"Jeez, two more, both male. They certainly aren't the mountain of muscle that is our mechanic but still.." Celeste mumbled to herself. "I just look like a twig compared to them." She became somewhat fidgety, moving her lance around, or adjusting her uniform. She wanted to look her best, or at least try to look her best. Celeste secretly hoped to impress one at least, and thought stepping up after the Sergeant's introduction of the squad would be her best bet.

So, Celeste did just that. Stepped forward, and did her best to look confident. Though admittedly, her emotional ruse wasn't very solid. "Like the Sergeant said, I'm Corporal Celeste Stichler. I was this squads only Lancer till now." She looked at the new Lancer "You make that title no longer available." She joked.

Brenna

Brenna stared off into the distance. Doing her best to stay out of conversation. She paid no mind to being mentioned by the Sergeant to the newcomers, and continued to do so as they made jokes about their job in combat. She saw no value in socializing with people who might die, or if she died. Some would say she's cold hearted, heartless, and a few choice words. She really didn't care too much now. She currently felt no real reason to live. All of her hard work probably burned for jokes by Imps. She'd kill as many as she could before she died.

After some time, she felt it necessary to check her weapon, and proceeded to do just that.

[AtomicNut]

Fina shuffled throughout the assorted gathering of militiamen. She could feel their stares, and at times she could swear some people scoffing at her. She gripped the holster of her rifle tightly, while she bit her lip and focused her sight on her feet, only ocassionally sparing a quick gaze to figure out where she was headed. It wasn't easy to find out where she was assigned, considering that she couldn't speak very firmly and half of the people saw the pattern on her shawl with a derisive gaze. Still, she persevered, and eventually had found out where squad four was.

"Aaaa..." She let a small, weak wail. "I'm...late..." She added, finally stating the obvious. She would probably be punished for arriving late to the briefing, and be called an idiot good for nothing darkhair. She could already picture it, the Non comissioned officer chewing her nonstop. She focused on not bringing more attention as she tried to enter the tent where the sergeant was. She shuffled through it quietly, and then after a quick gaze, identified the man's rank by the insignia of the uniform. Without even bothering to look at his face, she thrusted one hand forward, with her assigment documents.

Perhaps she should've looked better, and kept a better grip, because the documents apparently flung out of her hand into the ground. "Aaaaa..." She lamented, social anxiety setting in."Pri...pri...pri...priprivate Fina reporporporporting! I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being so lalalate!" She stuttered, words failing to come out from her mouth. She was shaking like a leaf, red with fluster and biting her lip. It was then when she noticed the pattern's on the sergeant's sash.

"Darcsen." She said in a meek, yet surprised tone. A darcsen sergeant? Dummy! Of course he's a darcsen, the lack of surname should have given you a clue! Dummy Fina! She chastised mentally. "Nice. Uh... on a certain perspectititive. Or not. I'm sorry" She finally spat and grew silent, shrinking even more and kneeling to the ground to pick up the documents that had fallen.

[Lennon79]

Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia

Grinning companionably, Harald leant in close to the new recruits. 'I think we could do with another sniper, so I'll try to fast-track that training after Vasel. And having another experienced lancer means I can get Bons working exclusively as an engineer, so thank the Valkyrur for you MacDonald.' He backed off a little so that the rest of the squad could get acquainted with the FNGs, sparking up a cigarette in the process. In truth he was starting to get a little worried about the number of scouts in the squad; having a dedicated rifle section was useful certainly, but they would need some more shocktroopers soon, especially with the urban combat he predicted in Vasel. Before he could finish that thought though, Harald found a fistful of paperwork thrown at him, accompanied by a nervous wreck. Another transfer? Maybe the Valks really were on his side after all.

He knelt to pick up the transfer paperwork before the girl could. 'Fina, is it? I happen to think being one of the clan is a good thing too, but I'd be careful about saying it out loud.' After whispering that little gem of advice, he stood and smiled paternally. 'So, Private Fina. Welcome to Squad Four, the finest collection of scouts the Militia has ever seen.' The hint of bitterness in his voice wasn't directed at anyone in particular. In deference to the rest of the squad he added, '... plus a few others.' If he was honest Harald had a ton of questions for his fellow Darcsen, mainly about where she came from and which clan. But as Sergeant he had to maintain appearances and giving the impression of favouring his fellow minority ethnics over the others was a fantastic way to get himself demoted. 'I'd give the introductions again, but I think we're running out of time.' As the conversation among the others died down, Harald raised a hand to call order. 'Alright, you all heard the briefing and know what you've got to do. Anyone with questions, please come to my office the bunkhouse. For the moment, you are all dismissed. Clean yourselves up and prepare seven day's worth of provisions in your knapsacks.' Seven days food was a fair amount to carry, but thankfully they had Carn's APC as a mule. 'Assemble here at 0530 tomorrow morning, ready to march. And don't forget to draw as much ammo as possible. Dismissed.'

Lieutenant Beirmann, Imperial Army

'Indeed I shall ma'am. Siegfried will exceed your expectations, I assure you.' Marcus meant it too. Despite this being the super-heavy tank's first field test, he was supremely confident in its combat capability and trusted his crew to perform perfectly; after all, he had hand-picked them all for their stellar combat records. He was rather taken aback by the Major's decision to hang back though. In their earlier combat trials she had been more than willing to get stuck in, often driving her armoured car close beside the tanks during combat. Arguably a bad idea, but it probably helped her gauge their combat performance better than second-hand accounts. 'With your permission ma'am, we shall commence the assault. For his Imperial Majesty.' He again saluted crisply, before making his way back to the assembled tanks.

He took a few minutes to inspect the other elements of the task force, getting reports from the panzer-grenadiers and support tanks before moving on to Siegfried. Despite his history as a lone wolf, Marcus was well aware that good communication between armoured and infantry forces was vital in conventional battle. Indeed, the Gallian forces defending the ridge they were slated to take would be taking full advantage of their integrated support. When he arrived at his own vehicle, one of his crew gave a ready report. As with all of Beirmann's crew, Glockner had been picked specifically for his exceptional skill and attitude. As well a being an outstanding gunner, he was also Siegfried's second in command should anything happen to Marcus, a role the Lieutenant wouldn't have given unless be had confidence in Glockner's ability. 'Very good, Gunner.' Marcus made a point of referring to his crew by role rather than name, preferring to foster professionalism and respect rather than affection among his subordinates. 'Man your station and prepare for imminent contact.'

Five minutes later the line of Imperial vehicles began their advance. Two miles ahead across open ground lay a ridge of fixed Gallian defences, holdovers from the first war. From his position atop Siegfried's turret, Marcus surveyed the enemy through a pair of binoculars. He spotted about a dozen tanks, typical small Gallian designs, more pre-war infantry cruisers than true battle tanks; they would fall rapidly. Of more concern were the trenches lined with riflemen and a remarkable amount of lance-wielders. Plenty of meat for the grenadiers then. He opened up a radio link to the rest of Sqdn 655. 'Men of the Empire, prepare yourselves. Priority fire on the enemy tanks, then shell the bunkers. Once all fixed defences are down, the grenadiers will advance and dismount fifty metres from the trench line.' His orders were curt, but to the point. By now no-one in 655 expected speeches from Marcus Beirmann. Once they reached the 2000 metre line, he switched radio channels to inside his own tank. 'Gunner, target light tank, 45 degrees left. Side armour, below the top tracks.' He kicked the driver's shoulder and the tank veered leftward. As the first shots were fired, the voices of two hundred grenadiers raised in song as they waited in the back of their APCs.

Forward we march,
To conquer those who defile the graves of our fathers,
For the everlasting glory of the Emperor, king of kings!

[Bright_Ops]

"Sergeant, while I respect your intentions you and I both know that the Valkyrur didn't do us any favors; Kind of hard for a dead people to help anyone from beyond the grave. And I wouldn't be so quick to completely retire Bons from Lancer duty just yet... never know when you need another rocket firing after all." Andrew began earnestly. He meant no disrespect in the slightest, just stating his stance on the matter. It was amazing how merely making your stance on an issue known could attract fights but it was better to get it over and done with as soon as possible if it was going to happen.

Turning towards Corporal Celeste Stichler as she approached and introduced herself, Andrew offered the corporal a bow of his head in acknowledgement and a warm smile. "Oh, losing that title isn't all bad. Now the snipers have someone else to aim at. It's a pleasure to meet you Corporal Stichler and I look forwards to working with you. I saw/heard about your work during that training mission earlier on and you clearly have good aim... and a loud voice." There was a bit of a smirk at the end, but it was clearly good humored. Andrew couldn't help but hope that she didn't die.

Watching as a new transfer arrived, another Darcsen from the looks of it, Andrew nodded his head as they were all dismissed and given their assignments before they shipped out. As he walked away, Andrew's destination was clearly going to be the nearest stockpile of food he could get to. He had taken to heart the advice of his old corporal Jackrum (Surprisingly still alive, despite losing his left arm and both legs... And this was after losing his left eye in the last war. Apparently he was a quartermaster now somewhere) to 'fill his boots with soup. There are many means of dispatching an enemy without the use of guns or ammunition with enough creative thought and desperation, but an army that is starving can't do a damn thing except decide among themselves who's getting Steve's leg. Don't look at me like that, Steve wasn't using it anymore and it was good eating!'.

Corporal Jackrum was insane, but damn if he didn't give good advice.

[AtomicNut]

Fina

Fina felt she could die of embarassment, tears swelling in her eyes. Although the paternal smile of the sergeant did manage to settle her mood a bit. She straightened the best she could, and saluted upon receiving the orders, before hurriedly going her assigned bunk, and doing some minor adjustments and combing to her face. The sergeant had told them to clean themselves, but she wasn't that dirty. Sighing audiblely, she then began browsing her knapsack, trying to make mental note of what she would really need in her trip. Being a daughter of a peddler, she wasn't half bad when it came to the inventory and organizing knapsacks. I still have no clue about the whole thing. She ghastly remembered of her lateness. Sure, she had seen the papers, but that didn't match personal briefing.

Well, she would have to improvise. Or she could ask the sergeant? Maybe, without prying eyes, words would come out. Yes, that wasn't a half bad idea, actually. But first, the food. Fina bit her lip. A lot of other recruits would be stockpiling, since an operation was inbound. The dirty looks, the insults, the shoves, they all would be there.

But if she didn't dive in headfirst, she couldn't fight as militia. And she probably wouldn't find her family. She took a deep breath and set her sight straight, a frown forming in her face. She was determined. She was aloof. She flinched upon seeing others staring at her gait.

"Aaaaa..." She let a weak wail before assuming her usual stare into the ground and she began stockpiling food. Hurriedly and trembling, but efficiently. And then, she was gone, before the people could ever actually ask or wonder who she was. The ammunitions were a similar thing, really. She had surprised one or two recruits when she appeared to procure ammo without making a single warning or noise of her presence, other than a muffled Sorry apology.

And then, she headed toward Sergeant's Harald bunkhouse. She stood idlely in the entrance, fighting an internal battle of entering and talking to him, or fleeing and hiding under the blankets of her bunk in embarassment. The fight was decided for her when someone accidentally bumped into her, sending her inside, and face first into the ground of the Sergeant's tent. "Stupid spaced out darkhair." She could hear someone muttering at her back before resuming its walk.

Fina didn't even bother moving from her awkward position. "Umm...sergeant." She said. "I have some quesquesquesquesquestions...sorry." She added, hesitatingly.

---

Sig

"What am I now? A horse?" Sig muttered under his breath as he shifted gears and restarted the march upon Lieutenant Beirmann's kick in the shoulders. Sigismund sighed as he switched gears and moved the steering system, his full attention on the course at hand. He was no fool, a slower and heavier tank did not mean an easy driving, like many novices would think. In fact, driving lighter models was easier as you could always make minor shifts in trajectory to compensate. But for a superheavy tank, it was a different story altogether. He had to minimise the movement, and take in account parameters like the probable movements of the enemy forces, the rough terrain, and not expose the back of the engine, because the precious seconds needed to turn the tank could be exploited by lancers with lethal efficiency.

The old veteran shrugged upon assessing the enemy forces. Poor bastards. This is like a partridge hunting ground. he assessed mentally, feeling a tingue for sympathy towards the ill-prepared Gallians. Still, his past allegiances were in the past. He now had to fight and help the 655 massacre them. Wow, you guys got the short stick. Sig finished positioning the tank, taking care not to expose the weaker parts of the armor to the highest concentrations of enemy firepower, while at the same time allowing his gunner to have an steady aim. He also kept on guard, ready to rev up to continue its movement.Haha, as if. This kind of tank is endure or die. There's no evasive maneuver. Still, I'm confident in its armor. He added bitterly in his mind.

"Sing, baby sing! I want pretty explosions!" He cheered upon the tank's firepower.

[Slypheed]

Celeste

"Heh. Guess I could always shout Imps to death, or become a drill sergeant if I become too wounded to fight." She jokingly remarked, trying to hide the fact that her shouting was the result of a mental snap. Celeste looked around, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a few things to take care of." She said as she began walking towards a food stockpile

Celeste found herself thinking about the new Darcsen. She knew what favoritism could do to a high ranking officer, and wondered if the Sergeant would tempt fate in order to show favoritism to her. Celeste would admit that she didn't know the Sergeant enough, but a Darcsen being an officer and having a lower rank Darcsen could only spell bad news to her.

Regardless, she had things to do. First on the list was to grab food for the operation. So she made haste to get that done, grabbing provisions quickly and not really looking at what the food was. For all she knew, she might have picked up some dog food and would have to eat it, she just hoped it tasted good.

Once she was done with that, she went to the Sergeant's bunkhouse. Celeste needed to talk to him briefly, it was mainly an apology for her snap during training, but also wanted to know his take on the operation, and possible plans. "Sergeant" She said, giving him a salute. "I'd like to talk to you." After a brief pause for him to acknowledge "First, I'd like to apologize for my snap during training, it was uncalled for. Second, I'd like to know what the possible plans are for this deployment."

After some time, the new Darcsen wondered in, apologizing for nothing really. All she had were some questions, and she wasn't really interrupting anything important or special. Celeste didn't think so anyway, the Sergeant may.

---

Lynette

The operation had commenced. Lynette stood atop a hill just high enough to overlook the now unfolding battle. She herself had confidence in the tanks performance. Though she was prepared for any technical or mechanical problems it may face. The hill itself was flat enough for a small table, which held a small note pad and a glass of water. Her field glassed hung around her neck, ready to be brought up in time of need. She didn't have her rifle, but did have her pistol, and her normal guard. Lynette also had a radio nearby, ready to contact the tank when ever she felt it necessary. Which she would do soon.

The armored car sat behind the hill, ready to run in the event that position was compromised. He wasn't much, but it did have speed and maneuverability to run around a tank should one appear. Infantry was no problem for the car either.

After the first shot or two rang out, she contacted the commander. "I expect results." Lynette didn't say anything else. If the tank blew up, that was a result. If the tank lived through battle, that was a result. Everything that could possibly happen to the tank was a result of something, and she was ready to list these results as they came.