Fisticuffs

Humanity's Last Army

Personally, I'm partial to bullpup weapons. Those look badass.

Trial by Hell-fire (Panic x Fisticuffs)

It was a grisly scene. Three dead Nazis, two dead Poles. One cabin with a bunch of bullet holes, and three surprised partisans (five, if one counted the dead Poles). Thomas sighed. He and his companions, Édouard and Bernard, were supposed to meet two members of the Polish Partisan Resistance. Apparently, they had information relating to a very disturbing discovery that the French Partisans had made recently. Thomas didn't know too much about it. Felix, the leader of his cell, had been rather tight-lipped about the whole affair. He'd heard from some of the others that it had something to do with Nazi Research. Thomas had heard the horror stories, monstrosities stalking the battlefields at night, undead soldiers who felt no pain. He didn't think it was true. Or, at least, he hoped it wasn't true.

"Damn." Édouard said, finally. "It's a good thing we arrived late. We could've ended up like these poor bastards." He spoke in accented English, for Thomas's benefit. The Irishman could speak French, but not fluently. Much to his embarrassment, most of the cell could speak fluent English.

"I don't think they would agree with you." Thomas slung his rifle's strap over his shoulder. It was bolt-action, and of German make. He'd lifted it off of a dead Wehrmacht, not too long ago.

"How many Nazis do you think there were?" Bernard spoke in French. Thomas took a second to translate.

"At least three." He said, slowly, in heavily-accented French. Bernard chuckled, and Edouard cracked a smile.

They searched through the pockets of the dead Poles, and of the dead Nazis, to no avail. Whatever intel the dead Partisans had either died with them, or had been recovered by the Nazis. They looked around for anything useful. The Nazis had been smart enough to take the weapons of their dead with them, when they left. They'd left behind the sidearms of the dead Partisans. Bernard and Edouard pocket the guns, and they left, feeling defeated.

---

The hideout of Felix's Partisan Cell was near Bordeaux, and was little more than a glorified campsite. If nothing else, it was comfortable. The French Partisan resistance was low on manpower, weapons, ammo, and information, but they had plenty of tents and blankets. Concealed by trees and hills, the hideout was as safe as they were going to get. The concealment was aided by size. There were only twelve Partisans in Felix's cell. Seven Frenchmen, one Frenchwoman, two Poles, one Russian woman, and Thomas, an Irishman.

Thomas woke up to the familiar sound of Edouard shaking his shoulder.

"Come on, you filthy Irish bastard! Wake up!" The harsh words delivered with humor. Edouard was his best friend. Perhaps it was the fact that they'd fought and bled together, but he felt closer to him than he did to any of his friends back home. Thomas sat up and followed him out of the tent.

The hideout was against the rather sheer face of a hill, that served as a good wall. The tents formed a sort of semi-circle off of it. In the middle of that semi-circle were crates of ammo, a fire pit, and a rickety wooden table with a map of the region on it. Most of the cell was already gathered around the table. Chief among those gathered was Felix Chastain, an imposing Frenchman with a sharp, severe face and a wicked scar across the bridge of his nose. Thomas and Edouard weren't the last to arrive at the table, but they were close. When the cell had gathered, Felix started speaking.

"We suffered a failure last night." He began. "The Polish Partisans were dead before Thomas and the others got there, because they were late." It was hardly Thomas's fault that they were late, but Felix glared at him anyway. "Their information is lost, and now we have to hope that the Americans still want to help us." He sighed. "We're meeting them soon, about three miles east of Bordeaux." He spoke in French, likely to spite Thomas. "There'll be a squad, and they're following our lead. We were going to attack a research facility North of here, but now we don't know where that's at. As such, we'll have to either search for it, or figure out a way to acquire its location." He paused. "I'll go to meet the Americans. Bernard, Edouard, Thomas, Anna, and Gerard will come with me." He looked around. "The rest of you will stay here." He paused. "Are we clear."

"Yes sir!" They chorused.

---

Thomas stared at his reflection in the river near the camp. A head of messy, brown hair. Pale green eyes so wide that he looked perpetually surprised. A stubble that threatened to grow into an unfortunately patchy beard if he didn't shave soon. A nose, just a bit crooked from being broke one-too-many times. He splashed some water on his face, as he did every morning after the briefing. In part to wash the dirt off, partly to wake him up, and partly out of habit. He stood, and for a moment, he looked at his full reflection. Tall, thin. He sighed, grabbing his rifle from the dirt and slinging it over his shoulder. Edouard was calling for him.

There was work to be done.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

"47 new posts"

This oughta be fun.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

Well since all the cool kids are doing it.

Nora's themes: Maneater- Hall and Oats Cover by Grace Mitchell and In Hell I'll Be in Good Company- The Dead South

@Panic

"In Hell I'll Be In Good Company" is the shit. I bought a banjo just because of that song.

Never played it. Still bought it, though.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

Man, whoever made this map is a...

...legend.

I crack myself up.

You see, because maps have legends, and it's also a good map. So, I made a play on words with legend, like those found in a map, and legend, like those found in history books.

It's real funny, ya see. Trust me, I took a comedy class once in fourth grade. That clown taught me everything I know.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

@Fisticuffs The eyes see only what the mind knows. And unless you take the time for mind and eyes to learn, you will never truly see what is in front of you.

@CollectorOfMyst

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

@Fisticuffs Excuse me? This is clearly Elian, not Elain.

@CollectorOfMyst

I had to check to see if you edited it. That's some Mandela Effect shit, man. I swear to God that said Elain.

The Destined (Soulmate RP)

@CollectorOfMyst Hey, it's Elain! I know him.

World War II Roleplay (Cancelled Due to Heavy Interest Lack)

@Ardiax Aw. I was just coming to say interested.

Well, if this ever comes back up, I vote European Front.

Humanity's Last Army

Fisticuffs' NPCs

NPC Captain Faraday

Name: Captain Aileen Faraday

Age: 32

Race: Human (Mars-born, Martian Citizen)

Sex: Female

Character Trait: Tough-as-nails

Character Personality: Aileen could easily be seen as just another gung-ho “everything for humanity”-style human weapon. She could easily be seen as a stereotypical “drill sergeant.” If one takes the time to get close to Aileen, one could see that she’s a genuinely caring person who hides that facet of herself under a guise of gung-ho “let’s kick some alien ass”-style dialogue. She worries greatly over the safety of her soldiers, and when not in combat, can be friendly or open to them.

Character Background: Born and raised on Mars, Aileen was the daughter of a mechanic and a career soldier. She was conscripted at age seventeen, but would have volunteered soon after if she’d had the chance. Her unit was led by a sort of rising star within the military, Captain Thomas Dunn. In a war full of losses and delayed inevitability, Aileen’s unit did quite well for itself. Aileen, herself, proved to be an effective soldier and leader, and soon became one of Dunn’s most trusted subordinates.

Victories for humanity were few and far between, but Aileen and her comrades were very good at surviving battles, and killing a helluva lot of Bulwark before they left. This impressive track record came to a screeching halt when Aileen was twenty-one. A nameless battle, but one that took the lives of hundreds of thousands of soldiers, including all but three of Aileen’s unit, including herself. Of the three, one was missing in action and the other, Thomas Dunn, was badly wounded. Aileen was the only soldier to come out of that battle unscathed.

After Thomas essentially retired, Aileen was rapidly promoted and given new soldiers to command. She proved to be a capable leader, though one noted for being a hardass. Her soldiers often have conflicted feelings of hate, fear, and admiration for her. Recently, her unit was folded into the 558th Defensive Army, where she again met her former idol, Thomas Dunn. Much to her delight, she now outranked him. The two may disagree on methodology, but both are equally interested in keeping the soldiers of the 558th alive.

Curio: Aileen’s sidearm is outdated, a functionally deadly memento from when she first joined the military fifteen years ago.

Appearance: Aileen is surprisingly small, standing at 5’ 4” and weighing 123lbs. A lifetime of soldiering has made her lean and strong. Her hair is kept short, and reddish-brown. She has sharp features and sharper eyes.