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Conscripts male Member

An Atom Trying to Understand Itself

STATUS: Why am I bothering to update the status anyway? No one's gonna care 6 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
Current Why am I bothering to update the status anyway? No one's gonna care
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7 yrs ago
"Remember to look at the stars not down at your feet." Inspired me ever since. Rest in peace Professor Hawking
7 yrs ago
I don't know why, but the boredom is killing me slowly
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In Innocence Lost: Space Western Science Fantasy (Temporarily Open Again!) → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Alexander Kherol


Laichstarg - System 32 - Headquarter of the Ascendancy's 1st Fleet

Back in those days, this middle-aged veteran of the Rau've war had learned, when bearing the insignia of the symmetric letter J on the side of your helmet, you'd by default earned the highest of respect that was only bested by the high-ranked government positions. People, especially Ascendancy sympathizers, call them by the names of sweet endorsement, like the 'sons of the fatherland', 'lions of the Ascendancy', so on and so forth. But one of the more commonly used name was the 'Royal Guard'. And the Department of Propaganda did not miss this opportunity. You'd know this is one of their places immediately from the first step onto the monstrosity and masterpiece of architecture.

It began with the entrance: the long walk from the door, across rows of tall pillars and a thick textured purplish marbled floor. The multiple holographic projection of a soldier carrying a simple classical rifle with bayonets, wearing a solemn dark grey uniform, typical of the Guards. It may seem harmless though, but the title of 'Royal Guard' was not used in names only. The old veteran didn't have issues with them though, as he strutted passed the rows, along with the walls marking the mementos of the Guard's past triumphs on the battlefield - a reminder that they were not the amateurs they were once perceived to be.

It was an impressive display, considering this was the grand admiral's favorite office. He had grown quite complacent to this place, as years of military passiveness after the Rau've war had dislodged his place in the frontline, on the bridge of his command ship, as there were simply no fronts for him to stand on.

The stride of the war hardened veteran did not narrow with all this stuff. He knew too well this man who was worth the age of his younger brother, yet was in a position higher than anything he could have achieved in three lifetimes combined. Soon, he was right in front of two guards, wearing the same thing and wielding the same weapon like the holograms, but this time they were real people.

"Halt, papers please, Captain."

The man in question chuckled a bit in amusement. Sometimes the guards could be a little too indulged in their jobs. Once the guns were placed down, he was his friend. He knew him personally. But protocols and his sense of responsibility did not allow him to slack off.

"Here." The man with the white moustache handed him the ID card.

"Hmm. Information for the admiral? Seems urgent, yes?" He asked.

"I wouldn't be making any conclusions. But from my perspective, it is."

"Then I wouldn't be wasting any of your time." The guard replied, handing back the paper before standing aside, opening the door. "The admiral is in his office. Have a nice day Captain."

"You too." He gave the guard a brief smile before trotting off. Another hallway awaited, but it was much shorter than he had to experience. After he arrived at the only layer between him and the grand admiral, he did not hesitate to give him a notification through the door. And not long afterward, he was notified that he was free to enter.

The door slowly creaked open. At the far end of the room, seated in a tall-backed chair, watching the veteran as he approached him, was Alexander Kherol.

If the grand display at the interior of the entrance wasn’t enough to put guests in their places, then the look at the man himself probably did. His eyes were hidden behind the thick glasses, yet it still gave off the image of a thousand needles jousting into a man’s throat. The slim build, gray-white hair, thin lips were still, expressionless, watching his every movements with interest. The symmetric insignia was engraved right on his collar, that blended in with the dark grey of the uniform, yet few could miss it entirely

Seemingly able to read the man’s mind, the admiral quietly sipped the cup of tea before greeting him with a voice that could match the chillness of his face.

”Captain Fredrov.” He said. ”It is irregular of you to request a direct meeting with me at this hour.”

”No means of disrespect or disturbance grand admiral. It is an urgent plan for us all.” He replied.

”No need to apologize” Alexander said. ”I can already read it on your faces. Now, let us not waste anymore time.”

”It’s about Realist, sir.”

”Yes?” His brows piqued.

”Just a moment ago, we’ve lost all contact with the recovery team.”

’Hmm?’

His brows then suddenly dropped. His expressions unreadable.

”Lost?” He rhetorically asked. ”When?”

”The last recorded message was 23 minutes and 14 seconds ago. And the last recorded signal was 8 minutes and 56 seconds ago.” The man reported.

”Any clue of what happened?”

”No sir. There were no reports back, even in the slightest.” He said.

A radio silence that lasted 9 minutes? Wasn’t at all something Alexander was stranger toward. But right because of that, it made it a little tricky to pinpoint exactly what was going on. It was possible of an ambush, that the whole expedition team was dead before they could reply. But this was hardly the case. Despite the recovery forces not being the Guards, they were still good soldiers. Chances of them being obliterated before any distress signal could be sent out was very minimal. But it was exactly because of that that made him think. It could be due to jamming. In fact, it was most likely the case. But what caused the jamming then? By intentionality or by someone else. Could it be that the farmers had recruited these men into their causes? Speaking of those men...Snow…

”What about the other team then?” Alexander asked

“Not a clue either, sir. They must have been affected too.”

They weren’t too close to each other. It would take at least a thirty-minute march to the other one. He could safely rule out the first hypothesis then. But it could inadvertently strengthen his second hypothesis. That the entire expedition team had been absorbed.

“Hmm.” A hum escaped the grand admiral, as his face remained as cold as ice. An outsider could never guess where his eyes were turning toward, nor where his mind was wandering.

“Captain.” Before the man knew it, his superior called him, again with the tone that could freeze. “What do you think of the situation?”

“Uhh.” The man hesitated with the sudden question, but his stance remained upright. “I can’t really jump to a conclusion yet.”

“But?”

Damn, he really could read his mind. And he wanted an answer.

“I doubt that the soldiers would be defecting so easily. If it was someone, it would’ve been the politicians, not us military men.”

Hmm…

If it would have been that easy. He had a certain point though. But to fully agree with that would be a fallacy.

”I assume that you arrived from Kotaro, didn’t you?” He continued.

”Yes sir.”

”Then tell him to report to me. Now.”
@The Jest@Letter Bee
In ♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Acion Nakamiji

He was right on time. Right the moment Tomoe's dark clone proceeded with the attack on Hitomi, he became the pebble in the cog, as she was swept under the might of his wings. She was right in midst air when that hit though, leading to her less than elegant landing. She was not hurt though. Maybe a bit, but she was still capable of combat.

Acion could notice the other students paying attention to him and Tomoe, and how he suddenly just emerged from behind to strike her off her feet. They were definitely curious gossipers, but he wouldn't care less if they whispered something behind his back. If anything, Hitomi could be his witness. But speaking about the girl, instead of continuing to the nurse office, she...stopped, trying to reason with the pink-haired girl.

'I appreciate your concern, but I don't think that's gonna work.'

And damned him if he was wrong.

Gradually, Tomoe regained her senses. And along with that, her predatorial eyes, and the hiss of wildness. Shit. She is too close to her.

"Go on! I can handle her for now!"

Thinking she would target Hitomi, Acion yelled out to her. But he was wrong. Now it was him that she wanted to sink her fangs on. She circled around Acion, confusing him greatly before jumping onto his back. With the strength that he witnessed hurling the two desks at the same time, she began to hold onto one of his wings and twisted it like a bolt. Even with the strange yet tough substance that composed of his wings, she still managed to go through one of them. Each degrees turned out of its natural stance followed by a feeling of thousands of needles shooting right at that point, all at once.

"Grarhh!!"

He grimaced in sharp pain. He felt losing his own balance at one point. But he was conscious. He knew where she was. He could reach her. And he could end this. Hopefully. If that's what she wanted, then he'd be on the ground for her.

His hand shot up, over his head and over to his back, grabbing the back of her head. The other one went for the arm that held on one of his wings. Once done, his wings ceased to function, altogether, letting gravity take the place. He fell back to the floor, but not without a twist. Before the fall, he shot his legs up, so that his back was facing the ground. And hypothetically, as Tomoe was on his back, she would be the one to absorb the impact, not him.

@liferusher@Silver Carrot
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

The sapper had a short conversation with the man of color, shortly as the ranks began to cram into the narrow short and disgusting trench. Before he was silenced by the Sergeant passing by the lads, he learnt that this guy's name was Jovan, or Jonnie that he would like to be called. And then, all became void. Nothing was said, nothing was done. It was like everything had gone dead. Everybody. Artilleries stopped, guns ceased - for a while that is. The only thing keeping people from going insane from the silence was the constant drips of water coming from the heavens. Michael did not know it was blessings or curses. He was inclined to the latter, as he was sure the trenches would be dripping in mud, and the battlefield would be too wet and slippery to move properly.

In any minutes now, he would be standing on No Man's Land. And any seconds after that, he may either be inside the enemy's trenches, or lying face-first in the mud. Michael tried not to drift his eyes to the front. Silently, his hand found its way onto a rosary inside his pocket. He was told to put all personal belongings into a bucket, and would be able to later get it back if he survived another day, but he did not put this one. It was the only thing keeping him in check and giving him just a little bit of faith in face of this predicament. His hand fiddled with the rosary, whilst the other ones placed on his forehead. Then on his belly. And then finally on his two shoulders. 'May God have mercy on our souls.' He silently prayed.

"Are you religious, by any means?"

A whisper suddenly broke the silence. Looking right over to his right, he saw a young girl, seemingly only barely enough to legitimately be here, or maybe even younger, with brown braided hair hanging on her shoulder, asking him directly, her eyes looking right at his hand that just made the cross. She looked genuinely curious, but not without a smile on her face. Reminded Michael of all the country girls back in Tyrelia: nice, diligent and cute. At the time he had the dream of marrying one of them, but they were just an arrow whizzing through his mind at the time. Michael did not speak, but he did return her with a nod, to which the girl smiled bigger before tapping his shoulder.

"Don't worry, if we do our job then he will take care of us all." She said. 'He' huh? She must have shared the same belief. Yet her eyes did not hold fear. It seemed as if she could pierce through the walls to hell in any heat of a second now. Michael couldn't help but admire that, but he wondered how long could that mentality keep up. She'd probably never been shot at ever before, nor had she shot anyone dead. But at least, Michael should try and cling onto that now. Yeah, he'll get us through this. Just do the job right.

Michael was about to ask her for her name, but before he could, the Lieutenant from before came into the trench, holding a large sabre as he delivered a speech to the entire squad. How it drips with propaganda. Just typical stuff of glorifying the Federation's act while demonizing the Imperial Alliances. Not being a fascist here, the Imperials did shut down a lot of citizen's freedom and rights, but their ideology in itself was not demonic in any way, and a more important face is that they kept millions of people fed everyday, years to years, and the Federation was the one shutting that down. He'd been there. He knew it. That all of this romantic arousal was all bullshit.

But he had a point that Hill 58 was an important strategic position. It was high ground, so whoever holds that can dominate the area. But also because of that same aspect that made this battle an 'uphill' one. The Imperials had the high ground, so that meant they had the advantage here. But this seemed to be the only chance to take the hill, the only one in months. So he was seeing it from the horizon that Middleton would bestow the Pawn policy upon the soldiers - of not one step back. But he didn't see this coming. A little girl. This Private Lucia Farris. She was bestowed upon a task that Michael couldn't say whether she was lucky or not. She was to shoot her OWN comrades, if they retreat without orders. Just...what in the bloody hell was that? Not some cold-hard ass veteran, but a girl barely even reached the age of twenty told to shoot her own teammates. A boil of anger rose inside the sapper as he saw the girl's tears running down her own cheeks. She was too young. This wasn't war. This was a crime. Uncivilized crime. But what could he do? Shoot him? Then he'd be shot himself. Tell him otherwise? He wouldn't listen, judging from his tone. Furthermore he was way above the chain of command. He was the army's rook or knight while Michael was just a puny pawn. So he had no choice, but to silently look forward and begged that no one was broken enough to run away.

When the command was called, he reached for his bayonet and twisted it into the muzzle. His heartbeat hounded his consciousness, yet he only blinked. He knew he was scared, but this was not the time. It would affect him, and it would also affect the girl next to him, everybody around. For now, until then, he'd have to keep this up. Like one of his Lance Corporals and the girl said, remember the training, do the job and pray that a bullet does not find its way to the head.

It was time.

The whistle couldn't come any better. Loud and clear, the order was given. War cries were shouted, and the ranks began to charge forward. For a moment, it was like a tidal wave. And for that split second, Michael thought that if he could ride on this wave, he could actually stand a chance. But how naïve was that in a moment thought...

The braided girl was among the first row to charge forward. Michael was right behind her. He grabbed the ladder tightly, step by step, he ascended to the Earth, to the line of fire. But as he finally turned his eyes to the front, to look at the enemy straight, what he saw wasn't that. It was somebody's back. Particularly, that girl he just talked to. She fell right on top of him, pushing him off the ladder and back onto the muddy trenches.

"Argh." He at first didn't realize what just happened. His eyes were up at the sky, and that everybody was running past him. And as he looked up, the girl was on top of him, motionless. Quickly realizing he was back in the trenches, he slapped the girl's back as he said.

"Come on, get up, we have to-"

And that moment, his hand was soaked. Not from the rain, not from mud...but blood. That red juicy liquid. Oozing out of the girl like a stream. He immediately feared the worst. He turned to lift the girl's head and shoulders up. She was still twitching, but nothing came out of her eyes anymore. Nothing. Just seconds ago, her eyes were so lively. She was talking to him. The smile was bright, her skin was colorful. Yet now it was all gone. Skin paled, eyes lost all energy. She is dead...

"I..."

He wanted to say something, but the thousand words that was built up inside his vocal chord was clogged. Nothing came. And so was the same for his eyes. Nothing came. The few things that came next were all automatic. He pushed her body out of the way, with the help of a kind soldier. He searched for the weapon that he dropped in the fall as he heard a Sergeant that just climbed the ladder yelling at him to come up or he'll shoot. He heard it, but he didn't even flinch. He made his way to the ladder anyway, this time without anyone falling on him. There he finally got to see No Man's Land for the first time. It uncovered right before his eyes. He thought he was dead and had gone to hell. Bullets were everywhere, mixed across with the drops of rain, tears and blood. No second passed without a man falling dead, just within a small area of a few hundred yards. But like Middleton said, no turning back. A sure death if he turned back now.

And with that, the sapper made his way up the hill. In the hail of gunfire, over the muddy field and piles of dead soldiers, he pushed forward.
In ♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Acion Nakamiji

The weight of dark Tomoe and her claw sinking onto Acion's wings were suddenly lifted in a split second, and for a split second. It wasn't because she remove herself from Acion, but rather because of something else. For that moment, a warm sensation touched his cheek, glossed over it, pressed on with a gentle push of the lips. And the fragrance from her lips. He wasn't a stranger to this, but at the same time he was. It was...sweet.

After that, Hitomi left the room with Tomoe, the light and unconscious Tomoe, leaving a dazzled Acion alone with the other Tomoe. He wished that she would stop for him to recover, but he didn't have that privilege. He was in a middle of a fight here.

Tomoe eventually was the first to separate from Acion, jumping from desk to desk. The snarl really put the winged hero at odds. He had never fought someone who actually hissed at him like a wild animal. She then hurled two desks at him, her strength surprised him greatly. Nevertheless, Acion wasn't surprised by the desk throws. Of course the surroundings were definitely not ideal for Acion's huge silhouette, but he had been trained under this tough condition. He crouched down in one knee, his wings bent in an acute angle to the oncoming first desk. The desk slammed onto his wings, but the mighty force of Tomoe's throw was negated, or rather redirected by the angle of his wings as it ricocheted off of them. The next desk came low, however, so Acion quickly abandoned the crouch, stood up and leapt high, one step on the ground and then perfectly timed the next step so that it was on the oncoming desk as it passed through him and crashed onto other desks. Taking his chance, he unleashed his well-known feather attacks, though this time he purposefully threw less. First reason was just to deter the girl, which obviously did not work. She was a wild animal. She could not be reasoned with. Second reason though was because he didn't want to cause extra damage to the class. This was not his property, and no one's gonna cover it for him.

Because there were less feathers thrown, Tomoe could obviously dodge them, and with almost laughable ease. She slid under the desk, obscured from his vision from above. As soon as Acion landed, two claws suddenly took hold on him from under the desks like a scene from a horror movie. And even more horrifying, something sank into his legs, through his pants and into his flesh. It was teeth. Human teeth. She bit him.

"Arghh!" He yelled with a myriad of surprise, confusion, a little pain and disgust. He swore that could leave a scar. What the hell is she? A wild animal?

Right after the bite, she ran away from him. He didn't seem to be her target though. She was probably just trying to protect her other self. But with that predator instinct and attitude, in favor of herself, she'd definitely hurt others. He was the first victim already. And he'd definitely not let her do the same to Hitomi.

"That is naïve of you indeed!"

She bit him because she wanted to slow him down. But little did she know, he did not need legs. As he stepped out of the classroom, his six wings spread wide, flapping with more than enough to lift him up. He proceeded to give chase to Tomoe. His great speed allowed him to close in on her, who was still trying to catch up to Hitomi, on four legs. She really has animal instinct. Once he was right above her, he stopped beating the wings. Swiftly, he span around his longitudinal axis, his wings swinging around, intending to hit Tomoe with them.

@liferusher
In ♦ A New Era ♦ - A My Hero Academia RP → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Acion Nakamiji

"Alright." Acion nodded, coordinating with Hitomi to lift her up and lead her out of the room to the infirmary. The winged man looked disgruntled, his eyebrows furrowed, wrinkles formed. He had seen too many students getting injured already. On the while the issue of the Shadow Clan was still hanging around in his mind. Perhaps Hitomi was right, somebody else could do the task that perhaps him and the Sky Knights just weren't privileged to be capable of solving. But what overshadowed it even more was the question if none could actually solve them.

It would still remain a fact that his involvement would be a must, unless being instructed otherwise.

All of a sudden, his senses kicked in, searing his nape like hot coal. He span his head around to see yet another version of Tomoe, someone a lot more sinister than the innocent and usually sleepy girl Tomoe that Acion knew. If a human eyes could hurt, then Acion would be bleeding right now. And he was close to. The only thing keeping him from it was his pure survival instinct, as one of his upper wings immediately curled in to block the claw from Tomoe - well 'dark Tomoe'. His right arm and other wings also moved subconsciously, backing the wing up. It was a strong attack. He wouldn't want to think what would happen to his face if that claw connected.

"I think you have to carry her alone then. Go!" He said clearly, sounding a little like a command. One would have to go either ways.

Once said, he turned back to the pink haired girl, trying to yank her claw out of his right wings.

"Listen, we're trying to help your friend here." Spoken the word of those who did not know. But already his left hand crept to a feather on his left wings, ready to pull it out for combat once necessary.

@Silver Carrot@liferusher


Aurelia Nakamiji

"I see. Thank you ma'am."

The Sky Defender bowed gently to the nurse who happened to be taking care of the two students that she was looking for. The chat with Ruby, who she was content to have a though short yet pleasant conversation with ended with Ruby and Roy having their own conversations. She was a nice girl, comparing to the other crazies in his class, cheerful and polite. It enabled Aurelia to focus on what she was intending to do. A few questions to the nurses and they happily gave her the info. Being well-known in this city had its merits, aside from a few fan mails that she couldn't care less.

They were ok though. The students. She really wondered how they got away with him though. But she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Her job here was done. She'd had enough disinfectant for one day. It brought back bad memories. Though right before she could leave, however, a grown man with blonde hair approached her. She recognized the voice.

"Ah. Thank you for your concern." She replied, offering him a handshake. "And thank you for the assist earlier. We are all ok. The only one harmed is me, but it wasn't more than a bruise." It was that when the eyes of the Sky Knight's leader turned to the door leading to the room of those teenagers, her irises shrank a little. "They took more than me though. Not life-threatening, but it could possibly affect the hero career of some."

Especially that dude who lost the arm. He did say he'd continue nonetheless, but there was no doubt that his performance would not be top-peaked.

"Say, your timing and coordination at that shop was perfect. Have you encountered them before?" She proceeded to ask him.

@Aerandir
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

"Uh yeah. I was intending to anyway."

Even if Michael may not end up being long-time friends with those guys, he was still their subordinate. And he should at least made himself known to them first. What if they happened to need him during a battle? They'd need a name so that if something occurred to them, or if he needed them. In the heat of the bullets and blood, these precious moments could be life-saving.

Michael followed the energetic Paloma to greet the squad. She surely was a sunflower, always with a smile on her face. She immediately greeted the guys with a flood of question marks about poetry. But as Michael was about to show himself, his recognizable but less visible silhouette, more guys from the same squad swarmed the two Lance Corporals. All taller than he was. Believe it or not, he was certain that he was the shortest person in the entire army. Spent his entire life looking up at people. As much as he wanted to introduce himself, he wouldn't want to be edging his way through those towers of a person. There was still an hour and a half left until battle commences, so he had plenty of time. He could meet them after the squad had dispersed a little-

"8th Platoon, gather your gear and webbings. Plans have changed. Advancement commences in 15 minutes, so haul-arse over to the frontline steps! Anyone who refuses to come is to be court-martialed, so let's get a move on!"

As he said it, it happened. It was time to pick up the rifle.

"Seems like there is no time."

He didn't want to be late. Their names were Isaac and Jean, right? He could keep that information in mind.

"Alright calm down. You've been trained for this."

As he carried the weight of his own body combining with the multitude of both engineering and combat equipment over to the front trench, the traumatizing stench of human flesh on its way back into mother nature's soil. Poor these fellows. Some of those who were still recognizable were just as young as Michael, barely even reached twenty years of age. And they were now without a proper burial place. We were both pinning each other down, so no personals with any quality of brain cells would actually pop their heads over the parapet. That only meant that these unfortunate souls wouldn't have a place to rest, and for us a pleasant smell. To call it unpleasant was a gross understatement, however. It was disgusting. Traumatizing. Pure horror. Something that would stay with the sapper forever.

To distract himself from the horrifying smell, he decided to look over to his comrades. Some were just as scared as he is, while a few were jumping with their heels, eager for the faithful charge that would determine a few of these men's destiny. The face of the former group attracted him the most. It didn't resonate this clearly to Michael until now, but they were also a shadow of his own self: young with a bright future, with someone waiting for them to return at home. He remembered it. He would not in any circumstances, want to die right here, right now. And what could he possibly do right now but to fight. He wouldn't want to shoot a gun out of malice, or plunge a bayonet deeply into the enemy's chest with hatred, but his parents were waiting for him at home...He'd not leave them alone.

As much as he tried to avoid looking to the side or consciously acknowledge the stench, he couldn't fully. The more disturbing something is, the more likely you would be inclined to pay attention to it. It was unpleasant, but the human brain. What could he change about that? Thankfully though, whilst he could not distract himself, someone else did. A tap on his shoulder called for his attention. It was from a man with dark skin, nearly two heads taller than Michael. He was offering a tin can of sweet chocolate with a friendly smile on his face. At least his squadmates were mostly nice person. Otherwise how would he survive in this calamity?

"Thank you." He expressed simply, though his voice was deep, in contrast to his petite and roundish face, as he took out a small piece. The guy did say this was his homemade chocolate from his mom. How nice. The letter in his pocket seemed to clatter for his attention again. Reminded him of his own mother. He took a small bite from the piece of chocolate he was offered. The flavor melted immediately.

"It is so good..."

Not just by the military standard, but also by his own standard as well, as someone who had the privilege to enjoy some fine dishes in the past. But perhaps nothing beats mother's cooking. The love placed in those mixes of cocoa and milk. The same could be said in those curves of inks that was in his letter. He couldn't help but take it out again, after he had munched down the piece.

"It really gives me something to remember." He turned over to the man with a small smile of gratitude on his face. "Thanks again, uhh...sorry, what's your name?"

@Rigmarole
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

Under his constant maintenance over the two months that the gun had been with him, as he had expected, the gun was basically flawless. The cocking sound of the bolt was just pleasant to hear, whilst the trigger pull was as smooth as slicing a knife through butter. Without the ammunition magazine attached of course. He wouldn't want to get into trouble the first thing in the morning. The magazine, now that it was mentioned, it was a peculiar design to Michael. When first issued the weapon, he thought that he would be issued multiple magazines to go with it. As it turned out, commands only gave him one, which was on the gun itself. Reloads would be done through loose bullets or, more commonly, a stripper clip. Sure, ten rounds was nice, but the user could accidentally hit the eject button and the magazine would be on the ground. Though a trained soldier could actually avoid that mistake, but on the battlefield, who knows what could happen.

Just as he finished with his gun, someone approached him with the same intention. It was a girl, her long blonde hair fluttered in the chilly wind. She was probably a little younger than him, judging by the look of his peers. Who knows, maybe she was just as old as he is, maybe even older. Sometimes being mistaken for a child soldier wouldn't be pleasant. But she was surely pretty with that pair of honey colored eyes. He wondered how she ended up here in the mud and blood of trench warfare. That was a stupid question though. Just like he did.

She actively introduced herself with a smile as she handed him the gun for inspection. She looked like a nice girl too. He wouldn't mind, as he was going to do this for others anyway. If they were going to die, they wouldn't die on a preventable jammed weapon. Michael simply returned the smile with his own, visible yet small, along with a nod as he received the gun with his right hand.

He proceeded to place the gun on his lap as he went over the previous process that he did with his own gun. Remove the magazine, check the safety, lock it, then go over the rest of the gun. It didn't seem to have any particular problem whatsoever. What may arise would mostly be from the reloading process. It would be on her and all of the soldiers then. Though to top it off, Michael's left hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and briefly wiped through the gun. Until then would he reassemble the magazine and handed back the gun back to Paloma.

"It will be safe now." He gave a small polite smile, as he held the gun with one hand. The other offering her a handshake. "I'm Michael Daunte."

Briefly glancing at her shoulder, as a partial view of the squad insignia hit his eyes.

"...Are you in the 15th Atlantic Rifle too?"

@Ambra
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

He couldn't believe he survived training...

Two months of rigor, he made it through, in one piece. As a sapper, this was a pleasant surprise. An engineer's task was always a tough and demanding role in the army. Not only would he have to carry over half his weight of helmet, gun and boots, but he also have to be hurling around tools that made up the identity of the title of the man. He did receive some slack with the basics, but ultimately at the end of the equation, it wasn't a good bargain. Perhaps he always had it in him, in spite of people's impression of such a filthy rich bastard from a noble white-collared family. Or perhaps it was pure survival instinct. A testament to Nietzsche's famous quote of resilience. He'd be inclined to believe it was the latter. But would it be enough for what was to come? For what awaits in the No Man's Land, what lies before the muzzles of Imperial machine guns?

Sometimes, Michael envied these young comrades, barely old enough to form a wisdom for themselves. The looks on their face, the smile on their lips, their shaking fists glimmering with excitement. If that was enough to survive war, it would have been a fairy tale. But history is violent. Do you think that those one million young men at the outbreak of the war full of sorrow so that they got themselves killed? How about billions of others in previous wars that soaked history with rivers of blood. There's no way they could put so many men to the swords so willingly if they weren't enthusiastic about it.

Despite not having seen it for his very own eyes, and perhaps this was a bad thing, Michael saw beyond the world that was carefully constructed by the rose scented dome of propaganda that the Federation attempted to build around the soldiers, so that they fight fiercer, charge faster, and die quicker. Perhaps you could experience relief knowing you die with honor of fighting for your country, but what about those you left behind? What about those who loved you, who was waiting in vain waiting for you to return, only to never hear from you again, and not even know where you have laid to rest to pay tributes?

Just as he said that, it hurt.

From his shirt pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper, folded in eighth. The first letter from mother. He had read it to the point he already memorized every single words. He was hoping for a reply perhaps soon, but would he live to see another letter like this?

Michael was the only son of the Daunte family. He was at the very end of the line. His family wasn't one for many offsprings. His mother was an elegant and noble lady, but she was fragile. Strange medical problems plagued her youth, and her carriage almost led to her death. But for some miraculous reasons, she still lived on, with a healthy and wonderful child, although short statured, that is Michael. But a miracle wouldn't happen twice. Not so easily. And they wouldn't be taking the risk. And now their only son was leaving for war. A war that should've ended by now.

Michael put away the folded letter as he looked up to the sights of his comrades chatting in the cabin of his train wagon, gradually taking him to the spot where he would call home for the next few months perhaps, or maybe even his grave for an eternity. The group were particularly young. Fresh conscripts brought from home, though there were mixtures of the old veterans, a few even from the very beginning of the war themselves, and the middle ones, those who had bathed in the dirt and mud of the trenches, but had yet to feel the flesh and blood being redirected from a man's veins. They were among themselves, talking about what was to come, paying less attention to the short man with his book. There were occasional questions here and there, but mostly it was them mistaking Michael for a boy, despite him actually older than most of the conscripts in the cabin. He didn't mind it however. Despite the early morning, almost everybody were awake, as the train came near its destination, and that the Big Show is about to begin.

Being ushered out of the train, Michael was already forced in line, just like the drills designated him to. Greeting the commanding officers. And just like he was told to, he raised his hands in salute as the officer walked by. His first impression of this man who would decide the fate of Michael's life was that of shrewdness. His aura boasts of the stereotypical strictness that a child could imagine the military being. Michael doesn't know if he should be relieved or afraid. Strictness was a perfect tool to order, but placed under the wrong circumstances could lead to terrible consequences. There was only one thing that could prevent that from happening, and he wondered if Lieutenant Middleton would have it.

'8th Platoon, 15th Atlantic Rifles.'

Seemed like this was the right place.

As the two NCOs seemed to be occupied, Michael found his own spot at one of the tables nearby. Unstrapping a bit of his stuff down, he swung his rifle over before having an inspection over the parts. The bolts, the muzzle, making sure everything's in check for combat. He wouldn't want it to jam right in the midst of a gunfight. And once done, he would do the same for those a few others who came to him. His role and rank were embellished in his uniform, so people in the field would know who to visit.
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In ~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~ → 6 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
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