FalloutJack

✧ Adventure Must Continue ✧

Flight of the Morningstar

She could understand the king wanting to bring everything he could to bear at Garlock, or even just to spitefully shout at him for daring to undertake the task of replacing him. Heaven and hell knows, he deserved all he got. Garlock was a sinister creature, a beast of deviousness and plot crossed with a sheer destructive force and an anger towards lesser beings. Morningstar was certain that if it did not belong to the feline persuasion, he cared literally nothing for it. Of course, she had no way to tell that that was not technically true, but then...Star had never known his full background. Only Daryl did, and he was gone now. It was terrible, having to keep remind herself. It was one of the reasons why, when she got in Lucius' way and explained that he was her prisoner, she was somewhat subdued in her speech. She brightened up after seeing his reaction, though.

"Oh yes. For surviving one of my attacks, you've definitely earned the right."

Go on, Lucius. Try to imagine what fighting this girl in earnest is like. It'll take your mind off of immediate concerns, like how lucky you are to actually be alive. No, wait. That would actually focus you onto that. This girl's attack strength was as devastating as that mace, which clearly withstood a terminal velocity strike. Having grabbed the crownless king by his armor to pull him along, Star now spun her Morningstar alot like Thor from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and propelled them high into the sky, where she spread wings to fly along at a great speed.

No longer scouting at this time, Star would bring him back towards Dead Moon Cathedral directly. Lucius would get, of course, a HIGH view of the surrounding territory as they moved towards a structure that he knew damn-well hadn't been there before. Uhhh, she was coming in awfully fast. Umm, slow down? Slow down?! HEY, WHAT'RE YOU DOING?! Star had taken a dive straight towards the Cathedral, then allowed her wings to catch the wind about 300 feet up to glide down to the ground. She would land soon after with Lucius.

"Hellooo! Lord Volaris! Anyone else! I brought a prisoner! He's a bit thrashed, but he's still in one piece-ish!"

One piece-ish? So, who's about right now to hear Star calling out?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

King Garlock

The walk was sadly tedious for him. Garlock could not amuse himself while playing the wounded king of wherever the hell Lucius ruled. He had to keep acting like a man who's grimly set upon making his way home on foot, because he can't go wingy and fly off. He had to keep pretending that he was a king returning from a battle harsher than he'd ever imagined. At least he had time to contemplate how he was going to play this out. The cat magus did not know much about the lands at all. The less he actually said that could be checked on or countered, the better. At least...so long as he knew or did not know things. What he did not know filled an ocean. In fact, he didn't even know where the nearest ocean WAS. That could put a severe damper on things.

Still, it was not long before he came upon something most unexpected: A big wall. He would call it impressive, but it was useless against a race of flying people, unless their enemies had no such power or simply did not need to build a high wall because it had magic shields or something. For now, though, he could clearly see one thing that it DID have: Guards. Several such guards were on duty right now, and two of them with...let's call him captain, for now...flew directly to him. They were shocked by his condition, the condition which the real Lucius was currently in. Garlock idly wondered if Star was going to heal the real Lucius, since she had nothing to fear from his comparative lack of strength. He grunted as two soldiers now helped him along, the third one addressing him. He spoke in Lucius voice, speaking in a manner strained from pain and exertion, but still with the flames of life in it.

"We had them, dead to rights. It was almost over before it began. But there was someone among them, a stranger. Either he was a caster-turned-demon or he was always a demon. Either way, one-such beast stood in our midst, all of a sudden. With so few of them left, it must have been a last-ditch effort at defiance, bringing in an outsider. Perhaps he WAS a devil. He tore into us all, men torn limb from limb in a single swipe of its claws. However..."

And here, he put on the Lucius charm by smiling just a little, just a hint of his vicious self.

"...we still killed it."

He then went a bit grim, after that, though.

"We swarmed over the beast with many attacks, all of us determined to end it before it ended us. Every last one of them died to cause the creature wounds, and in the final moments, my captain threw herself in its path and bade me to deliver the killing blow, though she might die in the process. My sword struck true, but then as the demon expired, it exploded in some wrathful combustion, leaving me in this state. My sword is sadly missing, either thrown clear or destroyed. I did not find it."

And so, Garlock told a clever yarn with details mainly focused upon a foe that would test the fullness of Lucius' power, one which would account for his severe state. As he had done so, there was a feeling about him, a presence. It was...familiar. Had he waltzed himself into the scouting patrol area of one of the others? They would have to talk, provided of course some privacy or some line of communication could be established. Hmmm, no... Volaris had specifically demanded no magical communication. And even if he decided to break that rule himself, whoever was literally shadowing him now would not. So, 'till later, then...

Metroid: Final Protocol

Yup!

Metroid: Final Protocol

There's no need for me just yet. Let me know when you get to the stairs, and when @SimpleWriter posts.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

He got the nod from Britta and took from it that she had a complete understanding of their responsibilities. Isaac was not seeing her as Corporal to Private, but Gunner to Gunner on this. It was important - nay, vital - to think in that way. Having no words, but silent acknowledgement, of where they stood gave him some comfort. But to move on now...Isaac could tell he was gonna like Jonnie. Once he realized that the two Lances were normal people and not like, say, Lieutenant Middleton, he calmed down and addressed them like a pair of new friends. Well, if they were all working together and they were all against ramrod-stupid military officers who didn't know what they were doing, they may as well BE friends. Isaac chuckled at the comment Jonnie made about how Sergeants expect you to behave.

"I never kissed any ass. The Sergeant knew that I didn't wanna be there, so he was never gonna get the time of day. So, we both agreed that if he'd just do his job, I'd do mine, and that seemed satisfy him."

There was more to it than that. The Sergeant in question didn't really want to create more ire than was needed. He wanted Isaac angry, not trying to actively tear into him. Getting his compliance by holding back was as effective as laying into someone with a real insubbordination problem. It got results. That's all that really mattered. The only thing that bothered him after that - and being drafted in the first place, of course - was that his Sergeant in basic started using him as an example to the other men, saying 'That man gets the idea. He wants to live! What's your excuse?'. So, rather ironically, Isaac ended up making his training group a little more disciplined and dedicated. Strange...

Anyway, with Jonnie offering to be an ammo man for him and Britta, Isaac gave him a thumb's up of approval, saying "I'll remember that.", just as several more of their charges came up to them with introductions. They were all young, weren't they? Nobody here was about 20 years of age, and that was actually quite shocking. Paloma was very energetic. Standing among them all like this, it made Isaac half-think it was like a more pleasant gathering at home or in town, even though that was not the case. Paloma seemed like your friendly-neighborhood helper and spreader of curious news, not the Shocktrooper that her insignia implied. Isaac hoped she was ready for this. He'd seem what the troopers had to do. More than likely, the cover fire was going to be needed for her own attacks, to make sure that she and her ilk remained alive.

Damn stupid war... The Imperials need a fucking hobby.

A hobby that wasn't war, that is. Isaac shook hands if they were offered from those who came up, and he said "Just Isaac will do, unless the Lieutenant moans about it.", before Jean mentioned that they didn't have to salute Lance-Corporals.

"They don't? Good. I don't feel like a superior officer, anyway. I'd rather have someone's trust. I think we'll all do fine if we stick together, watch each other's backs."

That was for the benefit of all, but also to help Jean with that sudden lack of confidence he seemed to be having and wanting to break away from. However, things suddenly took a sudden swerve in the 'HUH???' direction as Middleton spoke out, saying they had to get their gear and rears in motion, because they were moving out in fifteen minutes. What the hell happened? The war couldn't wait another two hours? Hmmm...guess not. So, what followed was everyone gathering and heading out for the site.

It was not pleasant, getting there.

Rain, grim silence, distant sounds of battle... It was too soon. He'd barely gotten to know these people, people whose lives he wanted to keep from being snuffed out, and that he would entrust to do the same. Here they were, stuffed into the trenches with people who stank like...who stank like... Well, we're gonna be honest here, this wasn't all that unusual to Isaac. He lived on a farm. There was rank animal smell there that outranked any general, especially if it was his turn to clean up after their stock. That much...wasn't as bothersome. However, Jean's line about combat virginity kind of felt wrong to him.

"Ah, don't call it that. We're all graduates of the School of Kicking the Arse of Other People. We've all tested well, gotten our grades, and today's our first day on the job."

He had his gun out, looking over the battlefield as he even managed a smile.

"Let's show them the spirit of the Class of 1914."

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

I think someone bowed out, so I can't see any reason why not. Better wait on Stuff to tell for certain, though.

Metroid: Final Protocol

The zombie things were not powerful. They were slow and fairly weak alone, or even in a small group. It was perhaps only with greater numbers that they would become a great problem. Well...there was ONE other issue. Every time one of them blasted a zombie, you'd see a blob of X flying away, abandoning ship, as it were. This was happening every time they were blasted, burnt, or splattered as such. Now then, the X did this, but some of them came back to re-inhabit the splorchy messes that had been plastered over walls and floors, reforming the zombie creature. This was, sad to say, the result of every kill scored by Cass. In this case, he blew them back and turned them to mush, but the protoplasm was able to be reformed by the next X-Parasite to inhabit it. This was still helping, but it was the extreme heat damage of Kaze and David. Where the flamethrower had failed to avail them outside, it was permanently rendering parasites 'bodyless', and Kaze's own special weapon was just too strong for the stuff to hold out against him.

Zen pulled in nearby, observing all this and taking the occasional pot-shot, speaking up after Amber had declared that the stairs down were several rooms away. He assessed the situation, considered the likely variables in which the zombie monsters could attack them, and spoke.

"Current X-forms are weak, but numerous. They are also able to reform if significant heat damage is not inflicted. It is suggested that Cassius and this unit take point to reduce all X in our path to protoplasm, followed directly after by David and Kaze to finish off disabled units in passing. Calculations indicate this strategy will double progress to the stairs, due to the slow-moving nature of these enemies."

In this situation, it was better to move forward instead of waiting for the enemy to exhaust itself. They did not have the means to destroy the X, only impede them. A spearhead attack that guarentees penetration to the lower floors was the best move to make...provided that something worse was not nestled within the base. Zen moved forwards in order to blast apart the protoplasmic zombie and make the job of burning them to death much easier. On the way, he would observe a large hole...leading up. It was just ripped through the ceiling! It looked like it may lead to the upper control room... whatever came here ruined the functions and the observation equipment itself, and knew to do so. There was no such hole in the floors, though, and there was no activity detected up there now. And incidentally, the stairs? Dark. Just dark. Not even emergency lighting was present.

Metroid: Final Protocol

Totes fine.

Metroid: Final Protocol

No, it's @SimpleWriter, but I'm gonna post soon anyway.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

This one might take a while to figure out.

Charpentier had a much different approach to things, he could tell. While Isaac was fairly straightforward, it seemed like the other Lance was a bit more of the soft touch. Pride in his rank? Okay, it was an accomplishment to start a rung up the ladder instead of down on the ground, but it wasn't that much higher than everybody else, so he wasn't gonna brag about it, either. Isaac guessed he could feel good that his skills had taken him this far and that they would keep on doing so, but he wasn't going to climb that ladder without making sure that those around him were following. It seemed to him like the Lance-Corporal was also something of the philosopher type. 'Because we're here' wasn't so much a reason as a...state of being. Not sure if it was some kind of pre-destiny kind of thing or... Wait, no. Manifest destiny. His father always said ancient conquerors had this feeling of destiny about them like they were too important to fail, like the weight of history itself would carry them to victory.

That didn't sound like what Charpentier was talking about. Maybe he was just accepting reality. At any rate, Isaac noticed he hadn't really taken to shaking his hand. Must not have felt comfortable. Were all Darcsens nervous now about opening up with people because of how they were generally treated? Well, he'd get the guy to feeling normal, sometime. Can't have anxieties on the battlefield. Problems like that had to be solved in quick order, before they led to real trouble. They were all probably a little antsy, what with the distant booms and blasts going on. Hell, one of the other soldiers came to them in full salute and official introduction. He had to be anxious in some way. Let's hope it was good old-fashioned fear that he could overcome and settle into normally. Over-confidence was not something that would serve them that well. Right now, Private Katz was being put pretty much into his care. Okay, he was alright with that, but...

Charpentier, you're not gonna keep everyone at arm's length, are you?

It seemed like after being cordial-but-distant with him that he was doing almost the same with Katz. It wasn't immediately obvious, but it did seem like the Private had just been displaced to him because the Darcsen didn't feel up to handling him personally. Boy, that racial divide sure was a strong one. Oh well, something to overcome. Better just deal with what was in front of him, for now. Like the man said, he should be helping out Katz now, not worrying about this. Priorities and all that. He smiled at the dark-skinned boy and spoke up.

"What he said. The Lieutenant may be one for formality, but we just want to keep the squad working together as best we can. So, what can I do for you, Katz? Any comments, questions, curiosities? Any idea what the Lieutenant's favorite color is?"

He wasn't going to throw their strict Lieutenant into the mud, so to speak, but letting the guy know in a sort of light-hearted commentary that he could just relax for now was probably for best. Asking a funny question like that wasn't gonna harm the Lieutenant, but he had to admit that the guy himself could probably use some calming tea himself, or maybe a full rum. Maybe he'd offer him one if he got his hands on some, just to get him to ease off the throttle of his command a bit. During this time, another soldier approached, a woman who looked like, ah yes, she had a machine gun hanging from her back, like he did. He could see the barrel and the 'legs' folded in. The lady introduced herself as Britta Hagan after a kindly greeting to them both. And it was here that the other Lance demonstrated what we will call 'proper informality'. He told them all his first name. Isaac nodded in approval of this.

"As would I be fine with Isaac. It's alot less of a mouthful than Lance-Corporal."

He looked again at the machine gun Britta had. She must've had a steady hand and iron constitution in training. They would need that here.

"I see you're a Gunner, as well. Guess that means the two of us will be looking after our squad the most."

Apart from just shooting at people in particular, their job would be to deter the movement and any funny ideas from the Imperial Soldiers. If the squad was advancing, they had to suppress the notion that the enemy could get an easy bead on their people. If they were withdrawing, the enemy must be informed that this was not an open invitation to follow. If they were holding in the trenches, the enemy was to be told that they cannot just waltz right in here. A Gunner must do all these things, and they must understand that their weapon can reduce a human being to giblets in seconds. That much had been demonstrated for Isaac in training when they destroyed a pig carcass on a rope. Blood and sinew all over the place. Britta must have done very well to become the same class of soldier as him.

@Rigmarole[@Symphoni]@LetMeDoStuff

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

For Isaac, the war began a bit differently.

He wasn't one of the many who flocked to the enlistment centers, and he wasn't marked as a coward for wanting to remain behind, either. It was a funny thing, but he always figured he wasn't going to go to war, because he provided a necessary resource to the Federation. Three things, actually, because his family ran a farm. They'd poked fun when his family had originally bought this land, not far from the city, but enough that you'd have level grounds of dirt and grass and such. Oh, it was dirt cheap, and they'd laughed when they started calling it the Black Lands, a plot of land unfit for growing much, 'cept maybe some potatoes, if that. But then, the smiles changed hands as the only 'crop' that was brought out there was livestock. Not even milk cows, who required more grass than other varieties to make milk. Walking slabs of beef and leather is what the Blacks raised. Not just that, but mutton and wool. Yeah, that's right. The food on your plate and the clothes on your back, courtesy of the Black family, at least if you were in central Edinburgh.

So, you had those two resources, but there was a third, and here is where Isaac comes in. This family learns the way of animals, every last member, including if you married into the family. The farm has to keep going, no question about it. Some are better than others, and some have that certain something that puts them along the lines of the third important resource of the Blacks: Dogs. Dog-breeding has been around for centuries, ever since the first wolf approached a man hungry and that man fed him. But in order to get MORE dogs with fresh blood in the breed, you have to start from scratch. You have to have wolves, and you have to have someone in the family who's empathetic enough to the wolves that they can be on each other's wavelength, like radios. Isaac spent his young years to his current years becoming the alpha to a band of wolf pups, hybrid wolf-dogs that were a part of the more dangerous issue of finding a wolf willing to mate with a dog, like a husky.

Thus, the third resource is dogs, and Isaac was responsible for raising at least a couple generations from a young age to present, and then he had to take them to a buyer. They arrived not far from an army recruiter and his men, where he easily escorted his pack right in front of them, like it was nothing, and then...once he was out...hoo boy. The man was simply impressed with his work, so much so that he insisted that he have his name on the list. Isaac explained that providing what his family did was just as important as fighting the war, maybe more so. The recruiter did not agree. In fact, he disagreed with the help of two armed men, stating that the army will benefit from a man of his caliber, and that was final. So, Isaac was drafted, and he wasn't given any recourse, as he would otherwise be labeled as a traitor and probably shot, which he'd rather not have on his family's conscience...or his head.

Training found him quiet, angry, and driven to freak out the sergeant with his actions, seemingly too vicious to be allowed anywhere near a weapon. No dice. It was as he feared. His skills really were suitable for the front lines. He became a gunner, armed with a lead-spewing machine of death and a kind of blade they made for punching and stabbing foes in confined spaces, namely the trenches. He'd had to drill in mock trenches, actually did very well. He didn't like that fact, though. More and more, Isaac felt he was being distanced from his family, maybe distanced from that which was human, but one thing that he did notice was that these squads were reminding him alot of his work back on the farm. These people might die without him. Maybe not these ones specifically, because they randomized the units, but others. Dammit, just when he felt like he should really buck the system...he discovers a good reason for why she should not.

Time passed, and Isaac mellowed out, though he was always disapproving of those in authority throwing their weight around for the wrong reasons. Ultimately, he found himself more beholden to the orders of the war - Kill the enemy while still keeping your men alive - than those a little closer to home. This led to some rather interesting developments when he received his commission and found out that his rank wasn't private, but lance-corporal. He almost asked the sergeant why he didn't just get HIS job, but that would've been a punch in the face and a night in the stockade, if he had said that. So, naturally, he had to of course get going. Isaac didn't relish this. He didn't want this war forced down his throat. If anything, he was going to shove it in somebody else's face and make them pay for it. Just get through this with as many people alive as you can, and then you win. Simple, right? Hah.

And so, with murderous thoughts for the bugler the morning he was at his assigned location, Isaac got up to fall into form. No, he didn't have any trouble getting up. He'd worked at a farm, after all, and wolves only sleep maybe a few hours a day, so he had to get up at some strange hours then, too. No, it was just that racket, that's all. What a pain in the ass. Speaking of which, introducing Lieutenant Middleton! This guy was of a similar class of twit and arsehole that that recruiter was. Isaac already didn't like him, and it seemed like he and the other Lances were all being made his accomplices to his bad temper and callous behavior. Gets worse when he started muttering about the Darcsen next to him, saying 'Charpentier' was a weird name. Come on, Lieutenant! It's just 'Carpenter' with a bit of flair!

Anyway, Middleton had gone off, allowing the recruits and all speak as they will. Isaac noticed the Darcsen boy just standing there, scribbling some notes. He wasn't sure what it was, but he managed a quick chuckle as he spoke to the guy while looking over the others here.

"We're in for alot of work if we have to follow that into battle."

He now turned to the Darcsen, really not caring that he was a Darcsen. Really, Isaac couldn't even remember what people had against the Darcsens. For his own part, the young man extended a hand.

"Isaac Black. I guess Lance-Corporal Black really, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm here to keep people alive. How about you?"

@LetMeDoStuff