Avalant — Roleplayer Guild

"The world as you knew it is coming to an end. The Neuroi are begin wage war in way Humanity has never once witnessed and our very survival is now at stake. It may not look like it now... But soon this will become much more than just small battle for the Middle East as in the coming years this will be the defining battle for the world. The world as you knew it is coming to an end... How far will you go to bring it back?"

1330 Hours, CV-04 "Von Braun"
Off the coast of Neuroi occupied Oman

The sun sat high in the sky as the 3rd Fleet slowly moved through the coastal waters of Oman. Heat waves radiated off the deck of the Super Carrier CV-04 "Von Braun" as deck operations continued non-stop. Aircraft flying in and out, ammo and fuel being ferried around, personnel yelling and moving about the deck, holding this organized chaos of an operation together. Some yelled in Karlslandic tongue while others shouted in Orussian. It was an incredibly diverse crew, and their new additions will only add to that mixing pot. Today was the day that the 707th Joint Strike Witch Unit became official, and its new squad members were about to arrive.

Squadron leader Patty Mitchel stood in a watch post on the "island" that overlooked the deck of the carrier. She was leaning against the guard rail with her head in one hand. Sometimes she liked to come up to this post on a good warm, windy day and just zone out to the noises of deck life. Though her meditation was interrupted when a similarly blond man walk up next to her. She huffed and looked away from while he just sighed. Petty Officer Charles Blackwood shook his head and leaned against the rail next to Patty.

"Weird ain't it? Totally different carrier, but it still sounds like the Saratoga." he said, staring out onto the deck. "You're nervous, aren't you? About the recruits?"

"Shut up. How did you find me anyway? I thought I told Paula that I would be in the Mess Hall." Patty said with huff.

"Well, on the last carrier we were stationed on, you always found some little lookout you could have to yourself when you were nervous. Before every mission, I could always find you looking out over the deck, all blank and quiet." He said with a smile, turning to Patty. Patty glanced at him from under her aviators then looked away again.\\

"That's why I'm up here. The Saratoga..... I don't know if I can lead people into that kind of stuff.... The things we've seen with the sinking of the 1st Fleet... Why should I be the one to shove young girls into that kind of world?"

"Because not only are you actually an exceptional leader, but you're a decent human being." He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Come on now. The newbies will be here any minute now and Paula is waiting for you."

A half an hour later, a C-2 Greyhound landed on the decks of the carrier. The two fighter aircraft that had been its escorts peeled off into the sky to return to patrol. The rear ramp lowered and out pored the new witches of the 707th. Their Strikers had already been delivered a few days before, so they only carried with them their own personal gear and luggage into the ship. They were directed into a flight briefing room. Before them stood the two women leading the 707th. At the pedestal in front of a large map of the Middle East was a Young Woman wearing her BDUs and aviators on her head. A little to the right of her was a mature looking Karlsand woman with long black hair and a sharp BDU uniform, but with a very calm and cool look. When they were all seated. Their commander did a quick look over them before she began.

"Ladies and Gentle.....man. You have been selected to be a part of the 707th Joint Strike Witches. I am your commanding officer. Captain Patty Mitchell, former squad mate of the 105th "Slugger Squadron" on the CV-60 "Saratoga". Your second in command and head of you Land Witches is my girl 2nd Lieutenant Paula Wittmann, formerly part of the infamous "511th Panther Brigade". The point is that regardless of whatever former unit you were part of, or whatever training background you have, you are now part of the 707th Joint Strike Witches and you are here to make that name be heard around the world!" she said, though now she began to pace around the room. "Now that may sound like a lot of work... and it is. We are currently now the main staple of the 3rd Fleet. Sure we got some sister wings on the surrounding carriers, but we are the front lines ladies! And we are not about to back down from that. A lot of you are rejects! Lazy soldiers, misfits, or just plane outcasts of the military. I've read your files, talked to your former commanders, and they all seem to point to potentially the WORST Strike Witches squadron the United Nations has ever seen! And you know what? That is fucking brilliant ladies!" At this point, Patty had finished circling the room and was now back up on the pedestal.

"You know why that's fucking brilliant? The most decorated officer that came out of the Second Neuroi War, Erica Hartmann, was also known to her squad mates to be lazy, messy, disorganized, and typically very absent minded. But when it came to combat, when push truly came to shove, she took down more Neuroi than you might ever see in your entire life! So unlike those officers who have their fucking discipline shoved so far up their asses that even their shit lines up in an orderly manner, I want results people. I want to see your fucking kill count blow everyone else's away. I want to see initiative! Endurance! Perseverance! But above all of that, I want to see teamwork! The people that make the most kills can get those kills because someone else is watching their back! You will eat, sleep, train, and fly as a team, and as a family. Watch each others backs and I assure you that this unit will not loose a single witch! At the end of the day, if you have done your true duty as a soldier and cared for your fellow witches as the human beings you are, then I don't give one flying fuck about how lazy you are. That said, here is the Lieutenant on your new life here." With that, Patty stepped down from the pedestal and Paula took her place.

"Guten Tag Witches, your bunk assignments are on the board to your left with your daily schedule which I will now go over. At 0700 hours is Morning role call and general squadron drill and fitness training. At 0900 hours is breakfast in the Mess Hall of the ship and 1000 for morning wash and showers. At 1100 hours, Land Witches will begin drill exercises on flight deck B4 while Sky Witches will begin daily flight exercises. At 1300 hours is lunch. From 1400 hours to 1600 hours is general recreation time. At 1700 hours to 1800 hours is squadron tactics discussion and planning. I will be naturally overseeing ground maneuvers and combat operation plans while our squadron leader will be handling all flight tactics and training discussions. We will also discuss combined arms tactics and how to use their air power to our advantage in various situations. At 1900 hours is dinner in the Mess Hall and then from 2000 to 2100 hours is nighttime training operations for Sky Witches and drill exercises for Land Witches. Finally, at 2200 hours we shower, have role call, then lights out. I will not tolerate anyone being late to any of our training exercises, Land or Sky. These training exercises are essential to your survival, so you might not want to skip it. Oh and I will also not allow slackers lunch and will personally oversee any skippers make up for the loss training time during rec. time." Paula gave a warm smile though and continued. "But I doubt that I will have to put up with that. A few more ground rules. No food or drink during training. No alcohol without approval of squadron commander and me along with being of legal age, no wandering the ship as to not get in the way of essential crew operations, and to maintain a combat ready status at all times. Think before you decide to take that mid-afternoon nap, because the Neuroi can strike at any time... I look forward to getting to know you all better and we will be the best we can be. Dismissed!"

With that, the first chapter began for the 707th's story. The year is 1991, the Middle East's life is getting sucked away by the Neuroi menace and only the Witches of the 707th can truly end this new era of suffering before it threatens to spread into the rest of the world. Only time will tell if this band of misfits and greenhorns is up to the task. This is Strike Witches 1991: The Gulf Neuroi War. Are they up to the task?

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