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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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David Liang


David's morning was rather boring. He was no person to laze around inside for too long, but rather he was lazing around in the Armstrong Computer Shop. Now that the final exam period had ended, he could spend time more consistently to help out the Armstrongs with their day-to-day woes with machinery. But unlike the constant demand of food or drinks, computing service was not always so. Sometimes, things just work, and for David, that meant less work to do. He yearned to be out and about, hanging out and catching up with those in class, but he had one client he would need to take care of. Enrique Mencia from the bakery. He reportedly had a non-functional laptop, but he had a lot of work to do for the festival preparation, so he postponed it until now, so David couldn't really go anywhere until this one was finished. Luckily, it was almost time.

"Mr. Nicolas." David called out to the person inside a storage room, his supervisor of sort. Nick was more friendly and casual than that, but considering the boy who didn't know his way around the language that well, he was fine with being a little formal. He poked his head out of the door to hear what David had to say. "Is there the toolbox in there?"

"Oh, yes." He disappeared back in for a brief second before coming back out with the box he required, knowing why he was asking for it. "Enrique right?" Nick asked, to which David nodded. "Awesome! Tell him I said hi."

"I will, don't worry." David gave a smile. "Oh, and if you don't mind. Can I take my day off after this one?"

Nick looked up and leaned his head slightly before nodding. "No problem, I think we can handle the workload for the rest of today. Go and have fun ok?"

"Thank you. You too, the festival's starting soon." David bowed, and looked to his father who was immersed in his own work in his own corner. "See you dad." He said before heading off with the kit and a little piece of paper as he headed off to the Mencia Bakery.

The village was bustling with exciting activities. Everyone was busy but many had a smile to spare as David strolled along the street with his stuff. They knew he was part of the Computer Shop, some of them he had helped before, so he was no strangers. He would love to join them to help out or just to hang out, but he continued onto his destination nonetheless.

"Hi. Mr Enrique?" The door to the bakery opened slowly, as the boy poked his head in. "It's David."

@Teyao
Steffen Gravinir


As silly as it looks, the Ingvarr simply just let Lein lad to latch onto and sit on his shoulders freely. Well, it's not exactly the first time some people ask to ride on his shoulders and hold onto his horns, but it's a little different when it's a grown knight holding onto the top of him. "Please don't pull it so much." He noticed as the Hundi was settling in. It was ticklish and sensitive, but it was only for a moment as Lein sat straight up, so he held back on saying anything else. The Hundi was kinda right with why he's obsessed with horn size, but for the wrong reason though.

But at least at the moment, they were both able to listen closely on the interrogation of the assassin. It seemed that the co-conspirators of this whole attempt was in the traitor's mausoleum, a thing that for some reason still existed, with skeleton soldiers. Though if this was supposed to be an assassination, why use skeleton soldiers and barricade in that place? Given that the plot was supposed to succeed, what was the necromancers and undeads role in this? A coup to takeover? It could be; the Cazt's faction doesn't exactly hold a lot of power as the livings, so using the dead is probably their only shot. And a mausoleum is quite an easy place to hide them. Normally, he'd be skeptical to why they would even use the undead for their insane plan, especially considering they could easily fail like they just did, but it made some sense here. Did they even expect to fail, that's also a question.

Steffen watched as his fellow knights decided to pick either to follow the Knight-Captain to the mausoleum or guard the princesses in case any of those conspirators had any funny ideas. The Ingvarr instinctively felt more comfortable in the castle guarding the princesses. Keeping watch on things was what he always do. He did this a couple times albeit never with the royals. Most of the time, it was peaceful, nothing too much to get worked up on. He was certain that his more senior knights would know how to handle these skeletons well.

After Sir Renar volunteered for guard duty and departed for the armory, Steffen felt like it was time for him to declare that too. "I'd like to volunteer for guard duty as well Captain. The safety of the crown comes first-" He said before being interrupted by a hand patting his arm. It was the knight that gave him the order just earlier when he arrived.

"Sir Steffen, no need, I will perform guard duty of her highness." He said, taking the Ingvarr back a little. "It's been a while since you fought, I'm sure a strong hand will not be unnecessary."

It had been a while. Actually longer than a while in fact. Having been stuck in that corner of the Candaeln does make time feel a little meandering. Despite the seeming incompetence of the knights when it came to paperwork, and that it often fell on him to take care of, his actual responsibility and the main reason why he was here in the first place, rather than somewhere else in this chaotic fragile world, was to preserve peace, if that meant to fight for it. He wouldn't want to be rusty when accompanying that task, would he?

"Very well then." He bowed slightly and carefully, with Lein still on his shoulders, taking care not to rock the Hundi too much, before trailing behind the other knights to the armory. On the way, the bored Lein blurted out the question. The Ingvarr glanced up both at the Hundi resting on his head and for his own thoughts too. Between Sir Fionn and Sir Gerard? Hmm...

"Hard to say, they're nice people..." He leaned his head slightly, looking at the two from behind. "If Sir Fionn's happy, I would say him. Though he might give me extra for a treat or something, and it gives me a bit of guilt taking it." Usually he wouldn't mind doing that sometimes, but he likely would use it to buy flowers from the town to decorate the Candaeln garden.

"I can't say I know them too well though. How about you? I heard you were with them for the raid on the bandits." Steffen asked, as they neared the armory. "You seem to trust them enough about your weapon choices." He seemed comfortable enough to bark vague requests at the others. Even Steffen wouldn't be like that who his favorite smither.

Once they arrived at the armory, the Ingvarr stopped by the door and patted the Hundi's leg slightly, if he wasn't obviously aware that the door was a bit too tall for both of them, and also it's time for him to change out of this ballroom outfit that he didn't get to use at all. Having little time to set out before the conspirators were potentially alerted to the failed assassination, Steffen didn't get to bring his armor nor his specially forged spear, not that he would want to use such a weapon in a mausoleum anyway. He'd have to contend with gambeson, shoulder plate armor, elbow armor and leather gauntlets and boots. As for weapons, given that he was facing the undead, he'd prefer to go with the war hammer strapped to his side and a small metal shield, a hidden dagger on his belt, though he tended to use them more as tools than weapons. It seemed a little lacking, but it was quite light and nimble.

The Ingvarr was just finished when he heard Sir Fleuri mentioned about the graveyard trip. Anti-undead equipment? He had heard something about magic being used against the undead, but to him, bashing them was the easiest option, so he was at least curious. And Fleuri might need a little hand. "I can go with you. It'll help make it faster, if it is any bulky."

@PigeonOfAstora@Crimson Paladin@VitaVitaAR


Being a squadron officially affiliated with the Vietnamese Air Force meant that they did not fall under the category of 'volunteer fighters' and received orders from the Vietnamese instead of the Philippine's Armed Forces, but knowing that they were in Lingayen meant that these brass often communicated between one another, so it's not like they were just acting on their own. But unlike the volunteers, they didn't get to have a break. They headed north to the new Chinese landing sites to help the barely functional air defences there to deal with any bombing attempts by the Chinese Air Force. However, it looked like the PLA went all out with their attack on Lingayen, and promptly lost their precious A-ranks there, thus their attacks on the northern provinces were much more sheepish.

"The activities of the Chinese Air Force appeared to have diminished greatly since our sortie the previous night. It should be easily handled by the local air defences." The captain, who had been grounded the last couple of days waiting for repairs, said to a room full of pilots in their dull green flight uniform.

"Looks like we scarred them for life." One pilot gave an amused smirk.

"Feels like they're restructuring how they actually conduct their sorties, because otherwise they'd just be food." Thu said, crossing her arms. "I doubt they'd have issues resupplying planes from the mainland."

"Our presence is a pretty effective deterrence." Tuan signed off his projector as it powered down. "In any case, we will have some breathing room for probably a couple of days."

Everybody's ears perked up at that.

"Oh? Can we chill now?" The Russian-blooded pilot said.

Tuan sighed amusingly before returning Nikolay's question, and likely what everybody had on their mind. "Yeah, good work."

"Alright!" The room burst into celebration, for finally they had been able to enjoy the fruits of their hard labour for the last couple of days.

"Make sure to rest up well and don't celebrate too hard. I don't want to hear this ace squadron being brought out by some cafe bar in an alleyway at 10 PM." The captain reminded, glancing at Nikolay, whom in turn smirked proudly.

"Oh yeah, Thu, Van, you both got your fifth kills today right?" Cuong asked, who's been sitting calmly in his chair for the entirety of the debriefing.

"Seventh. But yeah we're all aces now." Thu replied, and her co-pilot simply nodded along.

"Oh awesome." Nikolay stepped up and put a hand on his co-pilot's shoulder as he looked over to the two ladies. "Wanna head into the city for some celebratory meal?"

"Oh, if you're going to the city, carry sidearms with you." The captain overheard the discussion. "The locals would probably welcome you with open arms, but there might be some dumb pigs who think we're Chinese. I heard they're looting and beating up Chinese-lookalikes."

The individuals in the room glanced at one another at that, but ultimately shrugged, once they were reminded of how stupid people could be in a crowd. They had first-hand experience with that as well, but hopefully they would not have to deal with that.

Down the streets of Lingayen, it was rather bustling with activities, though it was in no way festive. In fact a common sight some of the pilots who decided to venture into the city saw would be soldiers, mostly Filipinos, but they did notice some weird uniforms here and there, probably belonging to those volunteers that helped at the Lingayen initial battle. To the citizens, they'd notice a couple of dull green combat uniforms strolling down the road, looking around the local businesses and going windows shopping. Unless in closer inspections, people who were unaware would assume they were in the Philippine Armed Forces, and would likely ignore them for the better.
Haha, thank you, it's interesting since I remember reading one of a short story set in Shenzhen China and one of the character's name is Wong, so I assumed. It's kinda a reason why I want to keep the origins a bit vague, since I'm not exactly too familiar with their culture (I grew up in similar-ish environment though).

As for Discord, I do use Discord very often, so I wouldn't mind having a Discord channel for this.
His name is very Chinese/Asian origin, but I prefer to keep it a bit vague, since that gives me a bit more to work with. I hope this friendly computer guy is ok for you.

Hi there, I noticed this a little late. Is there time for one more application?
Steffen Gravinir


Despite his anxiety circulating through his body at the unknown event currently happening inside the ballroom, Steffen carried out his duty principally, walking up and down the hallway to the royal quarters looking for any movement or individuals that might be hiding from plain sight to finish off what couldn't. He only knew that it was an assassination, but on who and who the assassin was was not known to him, until the third and final time he returned to the ballroom to check on the situation, that's when he saw a wolf-eared individual, whistling from beneath the sea of noble heads, making his way over to him. He recognized the Hundi lad. Sir Lein. He hadn't interacted with him much but his name popped up several times in his records for not exactly great reasons. However, from what he heard, he's otherwise a mischievous and interesting one.

"On the princess? That's daring." He gave a concerned look over in the direction of the attention, not seeing clearly what was going on, but given the lack of major movement, it looked like the assassin may have gotten subdued as Lein said. If that's the case, he saw no need to work on something someone had already worked on. Besides, he found no pleasure in torturing or interrogating the perpetrators. "I think there's enough hands, and will be enough soon."

He wasn't sure what exactly they are doing, it didn't seem like hitting up the assassin, but the most important part was that she was in custody, so they should be able to extract information from her sooner or later. The other most important part at the moment was to get his Highness to safety, and it was exactly what the knights assigned him to do. "I've been checking the hallways, it seems safe, but nothing wrong with going over it again with a clear eyes. And umm..." Steffen's finger tapped on his shoulder a little reservedly. "If that is favourable for you, Sir Lein, you're welcome to."

Steffen was not aware of Hundi's riding on shoulders for fighting or for better visions, maybe it's just a thing for Lein, but he was fine with it either ways. They were light, and he was strong enough to not be impeded much by their weight. Maybe...he never had to fight with someone on his shoulders yet.

@PigeonOfAstora
Steffen Gravinir


For the great work the knights of Iron Roses do for every day people, bookkeeping and administration was not necessarily their strength. In fact, the last year or two, paperwork had been ramping up significantly. Being the few who is willing to tolerate the mundane, brain and leg-numbing work known as equipment management was a blessing and a curse for Steffen. On the one hand, he's always with work to do, on the other, he participated in less actions, including the raid the previous day. Whichever is a blessing or a curse is for others to decide. Steffen was living just fine in the small corner of the Candaeln library.

Despite the work, Steffen never was in any lack of sleep. He diligently finished his self-arranged schedule early before taking to bed at the exact time as any day, and then up at daybreak. Breakfast was modest, the morning tea was healthy, a quick workout was serene. Then it was back to doing more paperwork. However, today things were a little different.

A messenger visited him in the morning, informing him that he was selected to join the Knight-Captain at the Princess' Ball. It was a little unexpected, but Steffen agreed. If it was the Knight-Captain, he could not possibly refuse. He'd push the non-important tasks for the next day or ask Sir Ishild to take care of what he couldn't. That was no big deal, but the next messenger to arrive was not as interesting. Carried with him was a familiar-looking sword.

"Please take this out of our record, if you don't mind. No rush." The messenger was a fellow knight Steffen had met a few times. A nice lad. But he looked grim.

"This sword, is this from Sir Rickert?"

The knight nodded, his eyes closed solemnly, letting the silence convey the message. The Ingvarr stood up from his chair and reached over the table to pat the man on the shoulder. "It will be done. Thank you for your time." He said softly, giving him an understanding nod. "If you want to chat later about it, I can always make time."

"I will be ok, thank you so much Sir Steffen." The knight rested his hand on Steffen's, gently lowering it. "May his soul rest in the goddesses' embrace."

"Indeed, may the goddesses watch over his soul." Steffen did not concern much with religion, but these people do, and he knew to always respect that, especially in grave moments. "May you have a good day, Sir Rostam."

The knight bowed and left, leaving the Ingvarr with melancholy. But it soon turned to duty, as Steffen took the weapon that once belonged to a great knight, gave it a thorough wipe before placing it in a redwood box embroidered with rose imagery and coat of arms. Though some family would prefer to use their own ceremonial auxiliaries, usually the higher class ones, it was still standard procedure for a knight's procession. Then the equipment would be carefully examined and the records edited. It normally didn't take too long, but Steffen often found it to be a little too...cold. So he took some extra time with it.

"Sir Steffen?" Another knight popped into the corner he sat on, wearing a much more formal attire, prompting the Ingvarr to stop writing for a moment. "You were invited to the Princess' Ball right?"

"I am. Is it time?" He asked

The knight nodded his answer. "It already started." Oh dear, time flew by while he was working. He hadn't even gotten dressed yet.

"Oh, thank you for the reminder. I'll be there." The knight bowed and was about to leave when Steffen raised his hand to stop him. The knight looked curiously as the Ingvarr wrapped up the piece of paper in front of him, put it in a light blue letter envelope embroidered with flowers, sealed it and placed it in a redwood sword box. There were a few more envelopes like it in there too. "Can you give this box to Sir Ishild as you pass by her? It's for Sir Rickert's family."

"Certainly." The knight nodded, took the box and left before Steffen could say thank you. It was good to know that there are some comfort for them.

The day went on, and Steffen hurried back to get himself dressed. He chose an all-black tuxedo with black pants, shirt and pants. The only light-colored piece of clothing on him would be the white cravat with a small rose at the top by his neck, and several embroidery on his coat. He jogged to the castle to save time, but slowed down by the gate so as to catch his breathe and not sweat. He was already late anyway, so better to be late well-dressed than late and looked dead.

As Steffen made his way to the ball, he saw the moment when something was going wrong. All of a sudden, there were distant movement of the knights in various directions towards the ballroom, as the door slammed shut. A couple others also arrived outside the ballroom.

"Ah, Sir Steffen, it's good that you're here." One of the knights said as he saw the towering outlander over him. "There's an assassination attempt. Go check the path to the royal quarters."

"Understood." Steffen nodded firmly as he dashed back to the first hall. He cursed himself for forgetting his spear back home.
Floyd "Flemma" Cloute


The moment the elevator door closed, Flemma had to give this kid credit. His head was probably spinning, but he was willing to go into the unknowns with the squad, with the chance of them getting murked the moment that elevator door reopened. It's a quirky squad for sure. A timid feline girl clinging to another young but tough looking lad, along with a rather mature-looking lady. He wasn't exactly confident in the team's ability to coordinate perfectly, considering the former two, but eh, the youngsters nowadays find multiple ways to surprise him.

"Better a familiar smell than this I guess." Flemma ticked his tongue in jest as he exchanged a glance over to the man next to him and more on the girl behind him. "Don't worry, I'll be at the front, but I'll watch your back."

The long ride did make the smell in the elevator quite agonizing to handle. The woman's smoke actually helped make it a bit more tolerable, but by the time the elevator reached the ground floor, Flemma would be the first out if he wasn't standing right close to the door. The so-called 'Yamazaki Restaurant' was...actually kinda like a restaurant? Which makes it even weirder given what was up there. The dishes and decorations didn't concern him too much, but rather the hidden identities of the guests, as well as the unsettling silence from them. He knew restaurants employ these to keep things quiet and private for diners, but given the mission they are in, it made it easy for a trap to be sprung.

As his squadmate approached the employee of the restaurant, Flemma too sheathed his Anima, but kept his distance from both of them. Rather he tapped on his comm to check with Shorty if anything was up. She did say she'd keep our visions clear.

"Shorty, you there? Yeah, we're down. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

@Melpaws@pkken@PigeonOfAstora@AThousandCurses@Lucius Cypher
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