Jeep Wrangler

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

---

Grant listened to Gabriel ramble amongst himself, their words being split apart by the odd breath or two from their job. The others behind him seemed to not engage with them so far, at least not from what he'd realised. Leading the pack, the two nomads moved with rough progression, the occasional voice yelling at them to keep their pacing up coming from the trees and rooftops they passed. Instructors proficient in rooting out Cadets' shortcomings were always watchful, scouting out the slightest flaw to expose and force the weakened to work only on correcting it. Here, there wasn't such a case. It was run or be brutalised for not doing so. They were allowed the odd ten minute break as they circumnavigated the course. Trees of unparalleled magnitude towered over them, warehouse huts and officer cabins were passed by at irregular intervals. All Grant wanted was to be back at the dormitory, taking a rest and perhaps being given a nice shower to clean the sweat from his brow. Though not the hardest day of his life, it was starting to paint a picture of a bleak three years, if he were to survive that long at least. He didn't want to experience fear, agony and confusion, but they were necessary evils to expose oneself towards if he wanted to enlist. Now that he was here, perhaps it was worth taking every shortcoming as it was, not going out and looking for troubles to prove himself on. Cockiness was only going to get him killed before he'd even left the training yard.

"I suppose you're right." Time had flown past since they'd first left. What had it been? An hour? Two? Time was barely registered, and the sun rarely looked as if it were shifting positions. Most of their jog was spent within forest anyway, the sunlight being blocked by the foliage up top. Occasionally, birds flocked to certain branches, but most of the journey was spent in silent ambience. No loose deer to bump into, no rabbits to cross paths with. "Though...I guess being in this forest is nice. It reminds me a lot of old things."

He turned his head, seeing Roger, who still hadn't said a word to them, looking directly at him with a slight curiosity. Sure enough, Grant was more rambling to himself than he was at Gabriel, mostly to pass the time in his head. With a nervous wave of the hand, he simply mouthed to forget it. Truly, there was nothing important Grant could say. He was yet to find any footing in the Cadet Corps. Those like Gabriel had goals and aspirations, places they wanted to be and people they wanted to go with. Grant was still searching for a reason to be where he was. Financially, it was easier for his father. Even so, Grant didn't want to help his father out particularly, but it couldn't be helped. If there was ever a time he wished to live with his mother, it was then. But, he was here now. In doing so, he could potentially get closer to the only family member who truly cared about what he was doing, who he was with and where he was: Uncle Mateo.

Mateo Valente, the man of the hour, day, month and year. To Grant, all his being was wisdom blended with a youthful complexion and cunning attitude. Very few things had shaken him, at least when in front of Grant. Talks of gruesome misadventures outside the walls brought several nightmares to Grant, yet even then Mateo told them in lighthearted fashion, all the while refusing to censor the potential missteps encountered. The only thing he rarely spoke of was his discharge, something Grant dwelt upon the more he grew up. Mateo was an odd figure, one he hadn't seen in a while since his first admission into the military. He wondered if anyone else had someone like that in their lives, a figure that took them to where they were now. Well, of course they did. Whether something to run from or someone to run towards, surely everyone had a reason of their own. Glory. Honour. Freedom. Responsibility. Meaning. All of these were apt, and all of them were still clouded to the blonde boy. He just needed to get through training and find his purpose, by all means.

Hours would pass, and eventually Grant would return to the dormitories. When that would happen was still to come. He knew he'd be back there at some point, with several conversationalists asking him what it was like to take the beatings of someone else's moral compass. Oh...right. The out-speaking Cadet. Did Grant hate him? Well, how could you hate something you didn't know. You could dislike the impression you were given and Grant was rather reluctant to viciously snap out at anyone of the sorts. He'd seemed to have made a lot of allies within the first day, people looking up to him and spreading the word of mouth as soon as they were all dismissed. Enemies weren't needed, but they were also sometimes unavoidable. Deep down, Grant hated the fact he was the target of another person's personality. Maurer was to blame, but at the same time he was making sure that the ones shrouded in overconfidence were going to be brought down to an equal level. Grant didn't understand Maurer's methods personally. He didn't know he was being made an equal to those of higher status. All he knew was that he was about to complete a three hour jog and Charles wasn't.

_{@LordVoldemort}

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

idk might bully some inferior cadets

---

---

_Name

Adèlyn Ziegler

_Gender

Female

_Age

15
_{November 2nd, 831}

_Ethnicity

Ich bin Deutsche!

_Appearance

Standing at 5’6”, Adè isn’t tall nor short among her friends and comrades, though there are certainly individuals that tower over her; though she’s made it clear that just because they are taller than her doesn’t mean she can’t kick their ass. Adè’s aggressive demeanor translates relatively well to her posture and presence, though at the end of the day she’s just another uppity soldier in a mass of hundreds. Her hair is a natural blonde and her eyes are green. Her physique is unsurprisingly athletic and well-toned, but she’s still a lithe girl with not much of a bust or build, though she is much brawnier than she looks.

_Height

5'6"

_Personality

Antagonistic
Arrogant
Bold
Determined
Flirtatious
Invasive
Sarcastic
Temperamental

_Branch

112th Trainee Corps

_Biography

Adèlyn Ziegler is a brash, pompous, loud-mouthed, and abrasive young woman and her comrades either love her or hate her for it.

Adè’s obsession with being the “best” is the catalyst to a genetic time-bomb of angst, unhappiness, and ire. It’s no secret that Adè has a plethora of issues that makes her difficult to deal with, though she doesn’t much care people find her difficult or frustrating. She wears their discontent like a badge of honor and when she isn’t scowling in discontentment she is smirking smugly as she mocks the person who has gathered her attention. In short, Adè isn’t interested in “making” friends and currently sees her comrades as like-minded acquaintances at best and superficial meat-shields at worst. This disconnect can be seen as cruel and stupid by some, but it has protected Adè from her fickle feelings and insecurities. In part this is a ruse to push people away so that she will never have another emotional connection with another human being; she figures if she can be undesirable she will never be hurt by someone close to her again.

Adèlyn’s father, Aldebert Ziegler, was a member of Shiganshina’s Garrison. He raised Adèlyn effectively as a single parent, though what little Adè remembers of her father is overshadowed by his sudden death when she was eight-years-old.

Having no family to look after her, Adè soon would realize that the walls of an orphanage in Shiganshina was a rough and lonely existence. The paltry meals were lackluster, her fellow orphans were as dejected and disinterested as she was, and the minimally-employed staff were as overworked as they were overpaid. With the fear of the Titans beyond the walls, anxieties were an unending presence of their own. Adè eventually would grow bored and unruly, often sneaking out and stealing food from market stands. One bowl of porridge and stale bread was not enough to sate Adè, so she chose to entertain herself out of her own survival and for her own interest.

With thievery came conflict from other children and, of course, authority figures. Adè was quick on her feet, assuredly, but she soon found herself getting into fights and arguments on a daily basis. When her only friend during her childhood died in a brawl her hope to find friendship and bonds was halted In what seemed like an instant. She still can hear the ‘pop’ from his body falling off a rooftop and onto the streets below in her sleep. It is a constant nightmare that makes her always check her footing and to be careful when it comes to maneuvering. After all, in Shiganshina parkour was one of the few things she was good at other than running and street fighting, that is. Perhaps it was the reason she was scouted by a friend of her father, whom told her she would do well to follow in his shadow once she was old enough.

When the orphanage kicked her out at fifteen, she figured it was the only choice she had. Plus, she wanted it. After all, it wasn't a Titan that killed her father, but another man in the military. She hoped to find out who he was and how to find them. She had never forgotten his face from the bunker of her father's closet.

_{Affiliations / Relationships}

TBD

_{Character Theme}

_{I’m a no holds barred bad girl}

@Inkarnate

Accepterooni

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

---

Head Instructor Maurer continued his rounds unopposed by most. Some tried to replicate the hopeless continuation of the uppity-Cadet's moral crusade but failed to even get the first sentence out, relapsing back into line just as they were supposed to. Grant felt a small pain in his chest, a tightness of unrelenting sadness intoxicating his lungs. He was to march onward with people he never knew, as a result of someone else's interruption. It didn't matter if the boy was right or wrong anymore. Either way, the Head Instructor was likely prepared for such deliberations from the moment he thought of taking the position. Grant had already grown weary in his head and heart, a deeper personality whispering to him about hanging the coat whilst he still had the chance. After the first day, some of the cadets who'd entered service blindly would leave on the whim, but those who stayed beyond then were doomed to its struggles for life. For as long as he'd been alive, the moment that solidified his future was now. Here. Being sent to the punishing ring of someone else's guilt, Grant could at least taste some of the lowest of lows that training could dish out before he grew too complacent or too snug. And with him, four other cadets would experience it. They were all boys, just like himself, so he didn't have to withstand that additional awkwardness that naturally came from conversation. In addition, he didn't have to dream up profound absurdities such as attraction and all manners of experiences he wasn't fluent in. With the group, he could focus on two possibilities - friendship or hatred, no third option or inbetweens.

Of course, Grant was overthinking any possibilities on either cadets he'd interact with. He always did. Letting himself loose and flowing without a sense of direction was only possible in physical practice, not in conversation. He could travel from town to town, never develop a sense of a homely life. It was easy when you were used to it. Grant wasn't particularly used to out-of-familial friendships. He wasn't nervous, not at least in an uncontrollable, stuttering sense. Words could be strewn together and sentences could eventually formulate into great discussions and debates. It was initiating them that gave him a slight tick of responsibility, something he hoped to expand upon before he'd enter an unforeseeable depth.

"Alright, bar those who were exempt from such luxuries, you may now return to your cabins and prepare for some meals later in the day. True training starts tomorrow. Formation, dismissed!" Once again, in unison, the ranks and files of cadets moved as accordingly, before dispersing and spreading around. Those who already knew one another generally gravitated towards their fellow compatriots, whereas many simple wandered in isolation. Either they were swept up in conversation by the snide remark of Maurer's lack of physical hostility or they remained alone, right up until they reached their cabins. However, Grant was not one of those people, as he had to stand in place, waiting for the punished to be singled out.

A certain Roger, and three other cadets he'd yet to identify were left to their own devices, before a booming voice commanded that they move to the side, preparing for their upcoming march. Grant was the closest to their rendezvous point, immediately being handed a flask of water whilst a few instructors began hooking themselves up with the fabled ODM gear that everyone so gloriously admired. They could get practice of their own whilst simultaneously watching over their collective jog around the entire training vicinity. Grant simply held his head down and kept quiet, nodding whenever the instructors spoke to him. They asked questions about if they'd done anything like this before, to which Grant shrugged. He had done long treks for hours longer, but it wasn't like he enjoyed them. It was a comforting thought to know he'd be able to complete it, just not that it'd do him well for the rest of the day.

Eventually, the rest arrived in their own due times. And once they'd been given their own flasks, one of the instructors led them ahead first, and no questions were asked by the blonde boy. He didn't listen out for the other four. Not at first. Not until they'd actually been separated from the instructors, who kept an eye on them from afar whilst twirling around on their incredible pieces of machinery.

The first and majority of their march took place in a daunting forest, with trees scaling higher than most buildings Grant had seen on the exterior walls. If he wasn't one for perspective, he'd have thought they were taller than the walls themselves. Forests like those were perfect for training with gear once trainees and soldiers got their balance perfected. Though there were mock towns to simulate urban usage of the gear itself, the forests were just as important for both the future Stationary Guardsmen and Scouts. The latter obviously were more used to environments like them, but their principles were sometimes interchangeable, mimicking the same size and statures as bell towers. In practice, they were a different basket entirely, all bunched in an unfair manner that made the cities feel like open plains by comparison. Grant watched as the instructors appeared and disappeared every now and then between the branches, sighing and panting as their jog had reached its twentieth minute. He'd remained silent for the whole thing, unaware if those behind him were talking or discussing their lives. If they were, he thought about whether getting involved was particularly important. Then, he plunged himself in unknowingly, uncontrollably turning and talking to a tall, scruffy individual first before anyone else - Gabriel.

"So, hey..." Grant started, trying his hardest to minimise his tone of awkwardness and instead flowing naturally as a conversationalist. "Not exactly the best start to our training, huh? You'd think there'd be a sixth person with us."

_{@LordVoldemort@KenjuGuy@MsMorningstar}

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

---

_{Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria}

---

As the well-spoken boy raised his voice, breathing out a freshness of confidence to the Cadet Corps, Maurer couldn't help but feel a smile grow upon his face. It wasn't one of admiration nor of appreciation but one of mockery. There was a real nerve to speak up, more so to express disgraceful disdain towards the Instructor's methods, all the while being on the first meeting. Any other Head Instructor would hand him a douse of righteous authority: the back of his palm or clench of a fist slamming into their gut. Maurer, however, was composed, intrigued by the podium of opportunity Charles hadn't given himself. A strength had been found, but an openly exploitable one. He had an adviser's voice, one of reason to question the staunch leadership that seemed to unfairly portray them as useless. Unfortunately, the boy was unlikely aware of the true situation he was in, what environment he had to adjust to. It was an experience he was going to learn, one way or the other. Maurer wasn't going to be the one to tell him his position in the military. Instead, he wanted to craft a way for his peers to do it for him.

With his denouncement of his acts, describing it as that of a bully, Maurer stood back and frowned upon him with a sense of pity. No longer did he seem amused by his challenge nor did he seem threatened, only disappointed by looks alone. A minute of silence passed, where he stared at him with mute judgement.

"So you're upset, Cadet? You're upset because I am a brute, a bully and, all things considered, a braggart?" Nothing more than a heartbeat passed when the brash youngster spoke out once again.

"You're god damn right, Sir." The nerve of some. His position was solidified, he was no troublemaker, but a child of change and difference by heart. There was nothing he could do in the moment that would change that, Maurer luckily had all the time in the world to go about it. At the end of it all, Maurer wasn't going to be a concern of his if he graduated. If...

"I'm amazed by your willingness to admit to your weaknesses, Cadet. You've simultaneously shown that your sensitivity is a bit...unhinged. We aren't here to pamper you, or babysit you. At the end of it all, you're joining to serve a strict purpose, to fight, live and die for humanity against a threat you can barely comprehend." The Head Instructor leaned closer, lowering his voice for the first time to that of a mumble. Those beside Charles could hear, but anyone beyond were left in the dust to his whisper. "The Titans won't care if you're upset. And if they won't, why should I? I'm going to be the least of your worries."

Even with his conclusive language, he knew that either the boy would continue or fall back into line. The latter was simply a failure to stand for what he believed in. The former was instead leaving himself vulnerable to the scheme of training. He was tough, Maurer would give him that, by heart, but it wouldn't be likely that he'd be strongly linked in camaraderie. If he wanted to succeed, it wouldn't be handed on a glory-filled platter coated in gold dust and sprinkles of honour. It would be fed to him with a spoon of fire, a fork of agony and cut up by the knives of anguish. No soldier beneath his command would be prepared for the world ahead of them if they got what they wanted. The world wasn't about desires, only needs. Maurer may not have wanted to hurt his cadets beyond repair but he wanted to make warriors that would shine ahead of time's limitations. Names would be remembered not by virtue of riches and nobility but by the blades they held and the people they saved.

“I know that, sir. I just think there should be more honourable methods. I have prepared myself to be here, in the corps, for a very long time. Why spit on us? How will that inspire anyone?”

He was still speaking? Well, at least he was somewhat consistent with who he was as a person. The mutters of other cadets questioning whether or not the instructor would snap or if he would crumble the Cadet into dust. They were naive, just as was Charles. There was nothing to see, not from Maurer's hands. Instead the job of discipline would be left to the natural incursions of his fellow man. The hounds of hell were held on a loose chain, and Maurer had given the leash to Charles to struggle with.

"I spit on you so you won't feel the pressure of the world when it drowns you in its saliva. Honour is earned, not given. Men and women like me have gone through unimaginable things to prepare you for the Corps. You're preparation is nothing but pompous playtime." He finally stood back, raising his voice once more so that the rest of the Cadet Corps could hear his heralding. There was only one suitable punishment for Charles, and that was no punishment at all. "Cadet, please point to five cadets of your choosing."

"Sir?" He questioned.

"I want you to point to five other cadets in this formation. We'll stand here as long as it takes for you to do so."

Charles’ eyes widened, though for some reason maintained his posture in front of the instructor. His brows narrowed shortly afterward before he took a look at the cadets around him before glaring back at Maurer.

"This is a diversion tactic. But, whatever." He muttered, before pointing to five other men in the line, some of which Maurer had already had interacted with. "Those five. Are you happy, sir?"

Maurer nodded with compliance, finally satisfied that he'd managed to follow the most basic of orders given yet. The boy's fingers pointed to five specific men. Though unknown to him, Maurer mentally identified them from his own registration. The first Cadet was the boy Roger, the one who'd been picked on first by the Head Instructor's shakedown. Following on, there were four other boys, all handpicked from Charles' selection. The second was a nomadic boy just down the line, a blonde haired, hazel-eyed wanderer named Grant Valente. Silently, his throat tightened up as he felt the finger fall upon him. The following boys were the aforementioned Ezra Taffer, Miles Rockbell and Gabriel Moreau, all five of which had no real recollection of who Charles was, as far as Maurer knew. It was a perfect selection, some who'd already tasted the spite of his tongue and those who were yet to receive any sort of grilling to begin with. Unknowingly, Charles had given out a strict hammer of injustice.

"So, Cadets Martirou, Valente, Taffer, Rockbell and Moreau? Alright. When we conclude today's meeting and I fall you out of formation, you boys will be going on a three hour march and jog around the training grounds, including the forests." Though he loved the build-up the most, the execution was where the satisfaction came from. He turned back to Charles, nodding in conclusion to their avid back and forth with one another. "Fortunately for you, Cadet, you will be dismissed along with everyone else and will not join them. Thank you."

And with that, Maurer finally left Charles' view, he moved further down the line, restraining the temptation to smile again at the decision. Going down the line was rather uneventful, his mark had been made on many of the faceless 'Rogers' who came into contact with him. Many went back to cookie-cutter answers. All 'Yes, Sir' this and 'Become a soldier' that. It didn't silence them all though, those who tried to act smug still got the usual scorning from his sharp tongue.

Eventually, he reached one of the victims to Charles' trial of intense exercise. Grant. He looked stiff in his face, unwilling to show any sort of emotion in the face of his superior. It was a difficult task, one Grant was screaming at himself from within at. He didn't like what was going on and was still in shock over his damnation for the following three hours, yet he was still unprepared for the mettle that stood before him. A glare of authority rested upon him. The eyes of the behemoth ridiculed his stance, his looks, his voice that was yet to be spoken and his commitment to the cause. Unknown to Grant was that Maurer already knew who he was. He knew who every cadet actually was, their names and their ages. And simply by the happenings of an uncommon surname, it was pieced together that Grant had a relative within the Scouting Regiment. He didn't say anything in the moment. Grant couldn't even imagine him knowing it. No one knew Maurer like the instructors did, and many didn't even know what his military background was. Those versed in the recent histories of the Scouting Legion could figure out his previous position, and those who could were few in numbers.

Grant knew nothing of Maurer, and whilst the truth about a certain relative were shrouded in confusion, mystery, unreliability and deceit, one could only suspect to keep a close eye on the successor to his ways. Maurer looked closely at the boy, shaking his head. Even without words, already he had caused a trainwreck of anxiety in Grant's tightened gut.

"I've seen dead horses with more life in them. Raggedy, insecure? Could I go on about you're little presentation here?" Before Grant could answer, he jumped straight into continuing, preparing his usual question. "Tell me why the hell you're here? Something to prove? Someone to chase after? Someone to love?"

"No, Sir. I'm here to join the Military." Despite his anxiety, Grant quickly uttered out his answer with a clear voice and moderate tone, holding his eyes directly forward and refusing to make eye contact for the sake of his sanity. Maurer looked both accepting and displeased with his answer. He knew that Grant was worried about the upcoming march given to him, questioning whether or not he'd survive the first hour, let alone the three total. He didn't settle into blaming Charles, not yet at least. Instead, Maurer shook his head and walked onward. And somehow, that hurt more than him saying anything at all.

_{@Inkarnate@MsMorningstar@LordVoldemort@KenjuGuy}

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

@InkarnateForgot to tag you too

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Character Sheet

---

---

Name
Revel Belrose

Gender
Female

Age
Born June 830 -- 16 pre-training

Sexuality
Bisexual

Ethnicity
French-Germanic (Swiss)

---

Appearance

Revel stands 5’8” with chest-length black hair, which she usually keeps in some style of ponytail. Complementing her strong athletic shape, she tries to retain a good posture in most cases, standing or sitting straight, with her chin level. This structured appearance makes her gaze stand out, her oddly light-purple eyes sometimes seeming rather piercing, especially when she is focused. She usually holds a rather neutral facial expression, and her poker face is quite good.

Personality

You couldn’t be blamed for thinking Revel a rude person. When she’s not seemingly ignoring those around her, her interactions are brief and sometimes laden with sarcastic or sharp tones. She tends to seem rather distanced socially, purposely not engaging in conversations without some sort of coaxing - and even then, she doesn’t let down her guard. This is largely due to her glaring trust issues. Revel was a very talkative, fun girl when she was a bit younger, but her stepfather changed that with his abusive behavior - warping her into a mostly introverted and socially cautious individual.

Despite these faults, she does still have a more tender side. When she does finally come to trust someone and befriend them, she seems almost like a different person to them. She will slowly become less tense, more talkative, and be much more open to suggestion. Her sarcastic attitude will, too, change - losing the rather dry tone and taking on a more good-spirited, teasing one. While befriending this stubborn girl is quite the task, once you do so she will never leave your side. But, this is exceedingly rare.

However, there is also another facet of Revel’s personality that stands rather contrastingly to her other behaviors. She is a very dedicated girl when it comes to tasks involving her desired place within their Military. When she becomes focused on a task, she becomes really focused, and it can be difficult to interrupt or dissuade her from her goal.

Even if she does possess an inherent distrust of others, she generally tries to follow orders to a T - but can sometimes find herself conflicted in highly stressful situations where either of her options have significant impact on her or others.

---

Branch
112th Trainee Corps

---

Biography

Revel led a rather cherished childhood in her younger years. She was fortunate enough to have a loving mother and father, the latter of whom was part of the Survey Corps. On days when he returned home to them, he told little Revel of his adventures outside the walls - how he fought to protect her and her mother, and to maybe eventually one day defeat the monsters that loomed just on the other side of their defenses.

It scared her to think of what horrors there were out there that required such giant walls to defend against. But fortunately for her, she had her father to stand between her and those monsters. Or so she thought.

On one day when he was supposed to return, he did not. Some of the soldiers in his squad had, but not him. What did come was the telling of his death to the hands of a titan. Of course, his wife and daughter were devastated for quite a time. Revel found herself withdrawing from what friends she had in school, becoming somewhat of a recluse. However, not all was lost.

Around this time a slightly older girl, Zhera Halnaut, took a liking to her and became as close to her as a best friend could get, surpassing her hesitations. She supported Revel then and throughout the years to come. Though it seemed she was not the only one who was finding some way to try and cope with her father’s loss.

Her mother, Altria Belrose, found herself remarrying almost a year later. The man seemed nice enough, and he also seemed to sympathize with Altria, comforting her whenever memories struck her full of grief. So they were at least coping - for a while. Until Revel’s new stepfather, Rowan Jeinam, showed his true colors.

Under Altria’s housecare, he grew lazy and self-indulgent. Soon enough, Revel came to know him as the verbally and emotionally abusive drunkard who sat on the living room couch all day. It went on for a while, but she endured the abuse for her mother. She figured that he somehow made her happy and if persevering despite his behavior was what kept that, then she would do it.

After some years this situation had changed Revel. She was no longer even close to the outgoing kid she once was. She was more introverted than she’d ever been, and her attitude developed a disdainful, rebellious pinch to it from all the abuse she’d undergone for those years. She really did try to endure it, for her mother’s sake, but she found herself almost on her breaking point. She had to distance herself.

This is when she decided to join the Military forces. It’d offer her more seclusion from her stepfather than any other job she could think of, and she imagined it was only right to follow in her true father’s footsteps. Soon she’d find that she’d push herself farther and farther to achieve the most she could in order to excel in the forces. She trained incessantly - more than anyone else she knew; with far more dedication.

Affiliations / Relationships
Altria Belrose - [Mother, Tailor/Housewife]
Leon Belrose - [Biological father, deceased]
Rowan Jeinam - [Stepfather, Unemployed]
Zhera Halnaut - [Best friend, Survey Corps]

Character Theme
Not necessary, but can be used if wished. Just a bit o' fun

---

@Bartimaeus

Accepting both of yoooou!

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Hider

Before


After


Name
Jade Stone

Gender
Female

Age
14, April 6th, 832 (At enlistment)

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Ethinicity
English

~

Appearance
Just under the “average” height, Jade falls more so on the petite side. Her hair is black as a raven and eyes a slight darker shade of lavender, both which are complimented by her fair skin. Having enjoyed running around and carrying heavy stacks of books have helped her keep up her stamina as well as strength, so she is in no way weak or frail. Her body stands lean with feminine curves which were usually hidden in black clothes, no matter the time of year.

Height
5'3" at full height

Personality
Throughout her childhood, Jade had been a respectful child who enjoyed working with her parents in the town’s bookstore. She helped when help was needed and enjoyed her time off as well. She was, and continues to be for the most part, well mannered. As time passes, she will realize where her voice is and how to use it, against anything that she deems unfair and unethical. Her heart is in the right place, but she finds herself, for the most part questioning many things as to whether they are truly right or wrong.

~

Branch
112 Trainee Corps

~

Biography
Born into a long line of librarians and book worms in Quinta, Jade was the first to stick out like a sore thumb within her family. She refused to carry on the tradition of working at the shop until her father fell ill, when she was about 7 years old. She would talk big about joining the corps and becoming a “titan killer”. The dreams of an adventurous life began to fade away as her father’s life did as well, and all she could see herself doing was helping her mother out by keeping the shop alive and carrying on legacy and taking care of their precious ‘heirloom’ as her father called it.

As years went by and the task of running the shop turned into a burden, she found herself longing for something more as she felt she had a bigger purpose in life. Her eyes would wander past the village and into the distance, reminiscing on her dream to once be a so called titan killer and the need to fulfill her destiny of having a bigger purpose in life.


Affiliations/Relationships
Lauren – A constant friend in Jade’s life as she grew up watching the girl help others in need. Often, she would get visits from her because Jade would end up falling on deliveries with books in her hands and get injuries. Lauren would happily help her and in return, Jade would give her medical books whenever she found any.

@wolverbells

Acceeeeppted

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Hotaru Tachibana

---

---

Name
Hotaru Tachibana

Gender
Female

Age
14
_{April 30th, 832}

Ethnicity
Asian

---

Appearance

Hotaru

Height
5'3"

Personality
A girl who would rather listen than speak, Hotaru comes off as a quiet girl. So long as she keeps her mouth closed, she can be mistaken for a cold if somewhat distant person. In truth she is always open for conversation and can talk to just about anyone. She has no issues offering her opinion on a matter, and is generally open minded, making her easy to talk to. She has a rather positive deposition, an optimistic view on nearly everything, and likes to look for the silver linings in even the worst situations. She will never let you down, even the idea of disappointing someone makes her always put in her total effort. As a result she is quick to help out those in need. Still, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy.

Polite and usually keeping a calm head, she seems out of place among the soldiers, though she transforms somewhat when a battle is to be had. She tunes out all her doubts and manages to keep her head in the game at all times. Despite her warm and gentle nature, she seems to avoid opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, and she has a lot of trouble expressing her emotions. Should she be crossed, she keeps her gentle demeanor, though becomes passive aggressive. Her observational skills are astute and she weaponizes it, taking a delight in honing in on people's weaknesses, addressing them with a misleading smile.

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Branch
112th Trainee Corps

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Biography
The one thing Hotaru can say about her past is that she was constantly on the move. Her family rarely stayed in a place for too long, and she remembers that anytime they got comfortable, they ended up leaving soon after. It wasn't until she was around ten years old that they would gain a permanent residence in the Orvud District. Her mother never did tell her what it was she did for a living, often avoiding giving complete details, but from what she did learn and her uniform, it looked like she was a servant to one of the lords in the district. Her father didn't seem to like what she did very much, resulting in many arguments until one day he was just gone.

A few days later, Hotaru found out that her mother had been carrying out an affair with the lord she served, with him promising a better life for Hotaru. Despite the well intentions, the loss of respect resulted in a very strained relationship. Unfortunately, things came to a head when an attempted kidnapping threw her life upside down, and while she managed to escape, her mother was taken. She ended up taking going to her mother's lover in desperation, taking her mother's place as a servant for a brief time. Eventually, she felt she needed to get her freedom, feeling overly indebted to the lord's son with no way of ever paying him back. Her decision to enlist came partly from a protective place, partly for herself, though she hopes to get some kind of direction.

Affiliations / Relationships
TBA

Character Theme
_{The hope for tomorrow will help me ease all my pain today.}

@Hero

Also accepted!

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

Charles Dujardin

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Name

Charles Dujardin

Gender

Male

Age

15
_{April 26th, 831}

Ethnicity

Vive la François!

Appearance

With a lean physique and bright blonde hair, Charles is obviously still growing. His mannerisms speak of a noble upbringing, though there seems to be a lack of superiority to those around him. His hair is cut short, though it has been growing unkempt as he has been personally focusing on preparing for the training corps. His eyes are blue, like the sky, and show a sense of hope and idealism that will likely fade under the guise of the grueling and rigid life he has chosen as a military man.

Height

5'6"

Personality

Brave
Defensive
Honorable
Idealistic
Impulsive
Naive
Poised

Branch

112th Trainee Corps

Biography

Charles Dujardin’s parents, much like Charles himself, was born within Wall Sheena’s Orvud District.

This was not a surprise, considering how prominent the Dujardin’s were within the walls. However, as idyllic as things may have seemed, there was always a layer to peel away when it came to Charles’ parents. By the time he was seven-years-old, the Lord of the Estate, Charles’ father, had managed to have several affairs with various women. It was here that Charles’ in one way or another witnessed how his mother could be as ruthless as his father was licentious; he still hasn't forgotten the screams from the room he wasn't allowed to talk about. It was a miracle that he came out sane in the shadow of two terribly toxic parental figures and a wealth of privilege. Perhaps, a lot of this was due in part to the stories told to him by his maternal grandfather, a man whom inspired Charles at a young age with tales of bravery and honor. The tales of the Garrison Regiment, of which he was once a member.

While these stories were no doubt embellished, it helped guide Charles. As a result, he did his very best to prove he was a charismatic, honorable, and brave person.

When a young girl found employment as a maid servant in the household, Charles took to them in the way he imagined the heroes of the past would. Men with chivalry and patience. Whereas his mother would knock things out of the girl’s hands, he would pick them up without a second’s hesitation. Simple, similar acts would continue for years, and not just for that one servant girl either. Charles found his mother’s behavior questionable and as such continued to be a buffer. It would set the seeds in his mind that he needed to leave as soon as he was able to become a great hero like his grandfather before him. However noble this goal would be, he would in time learn that he was misguided in more than a few ways.

The Trainee Corps was a lot different than he imagined it to be.

Affiliations / Relationships

TBD

Character Theme

_{Leave your doubts and take in with no fear}

@Inkarnate

Acccceppted!

~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

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Throughout the decades of misery, only two things had been keeping humanity alive, well and breathing: the desire to preserve oneself, ones culture and pride, and the acceptance of fear. Fear ruled every decision made in the daily lives of millions. Every small choice, sold product, robbed market stall, fired gunshot and day of patrol was riddled with anxiety, torment and the brutal reality of the world's true face. Under a shadow of darkness, humanity was but a rat's den in the monstrous sea of titanic wolves, beasts beyond human scale and comprehension. Even in social dismay, where the crumbling decades of society would fall apart into anarchy, it was driven as it always was - by the acceptance of fear. Scared of dying, withering out like a candle inside a jar, the light of man's own destiny was already breathing its last loads of air. Humanity was dying; no, it was already dead. Come the inevitable, the walls could and would not protect them forever. Even with swords and shields braced for the charge, at the end of it all survival was always a lit fuse of dynamite. Death speaks in all eras, in all languages, and suffering is its tongue.

The year is 846 and the autumn has begun. In search of solidarity, financial stability, prestige, purpose and a plethora of excuses, droves of boys, girls, men and women approached the recruitment halls. A promise of a better life, a promise of a chance to save humanity - many banked on making a difference. For as long as millions could remember, the walls had kept out the terrifying threat lurking on their doorstep. Beasts mimicking, parodying and defacing the human identity stormed in hordes. Selected individuals had faced them, especially along the exterior Wall Rose. Stationary Guardsmen were tasked with cleansing the wall's foundation of stray beasts whilst the infamous Scouting Legion ventured out into the unknown, returning only with disappointment and death. However, with the walls standing tall and strong, unable to be penetrated by the relatively thin waves of Titans that approached its base, humanity could breathe a little easier. Those complacent to their lurk retained little regard for their discomfort, lavishing themselves in a rich lifestyle within the interior. Many trusted the military to hold the line forever. Many trusted the military to break humanity out of its shell. Thus, many joined them, becoming soldiers only two years before the world they knew came crashing down in fire and flame, blood and anguish.

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_{Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria}

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"A man sometimes does unspeakable things for the ones he loves; he shapes himself, moulds those around him and kills for them. To hell and back, he walks barefooted, stripped down of all clothing whilst heated metal prods are stabbed into his backside, all for the people he adores. He spends years in the service of all, learning the ins and outs of the world through violence, terror and blood. He loses comrades and he loses lovers. Most importantly, a man is sometimes willing to lose himself for those he loves. Yet in those sacrifices, he sometimes goes too far and loses the ones he loves. What is he then? A shell? A husk? No, he becomes a teacher.

So what does a man sometimes do when he has lost those he loves? He forges new ones, new children, breathes new life and begins to take the mould of himself as a template. Those he leads become him, only to be improved over his own shortcomings. A new generation. A new breath of life. We become stronger because the current man has failed. The next one will rise up, but even if he fails he will give birth to yet another improvement. The man lives on by this. He creates people to love, and in turn they may love him back, or despise him. He may become their enemy, but if he's fulfilled his eternal duty to the ones he loves, then he is ready to pass the torch onward. When you've given your life, your world and your everything for the things you believe in, you stand in these fields today and you ready yourself. Until they are ready, they shall be prepared."

Silence. The early morning sunlight beamed down upon the deforested plains the recruits stood upon. Some whispered amongst themselves, avoiding the eye contact of the instructors pacing around them. Many weren't sure of what was to come. In a hut, some two to three hundred metres from their formation, Philip Maurer enclosed his musings in the seal and placed it upon his shelf. The 122nd. They were assembled, readied by reasons he would drag from their lungs. Upon his wall, he nodded to the familiar face of one subordinate, one who gave him the leverage and comfort to train and teach. Every morning, he looked upon the portrait before making his way outside. The door creaked open gently, and two musket-wielding sentries stood to attention, turning to the left and preparing to escort him across the dusty bowl to the front of the group. For the first twenty seconds, he could still hear the noise of chatter spreading through the Cadets, all of which were unaware of his rearward approach. His body came into view, and so Maurer's attendees were snapped to attention by the violent call of an instructor.

"Corps, 'shun!" A hesitant synchronisation of boots stomping against the ground and arms tightly clasping behind their backs quickly brought the ranks to his attention. For a few seconds, there was no other noise, just the sounds of Maurer's boots scraping across the stones beneath him. Making his way to the front, he daunted with slow movement, his eyes scanning over the hundreds of new recruits stood before his very eyes. Whilst the 122nd Trainee Corps would be spread all over the walls, this was going to be his unit, his class and his chance to create genuine fighters, ones who could excel. He didn't know it, but making the best breed of soldiers possible was needed now more than ever, with a looming threat slowly making its way across the world to the wall's doorstep.

Maurer's eyes rest upon the Cadets. They were small and young. Some were spirited in their glances of honour, others looked drained of life and colour. Some looked tired and some looked healthy. Some were weak and some were strong. Like any class, his first duty was to inspect them as individuals, singling them out and breaking them down until they would realise their own shortcomings, before it was too late. Root out those who were complete, already defined as uninspired individuals - there he would find the incomplete and turn them into soldiers. He waited. In silence, he stood, watching them from afar. For a while no one responded to his silence, unsure of if he was ignoring or had forgotten protocol. Speeches were usually the defining introduction, the thing that brought the cadets comfortably into the new world. Many of his underlings and other instructors hadn't worked alongside Maurer however. Things were different in his presence.

And with a bellowing voice, he finally spoke his first words, yet not all of them. He walked forward to the back left of the formation, starting where the sun barely shone on them. In his mind he singled out a voice, one that chattered in the now fifteen minutes of silent inspection. Once it was heard, he honed in on the prey, moving in and out of the recruits slowly, his head poking over most of them. Maurer's 6'2" stature towered over most of the recruits, especially at their early ages. His demeanour was one of fear, one of superiority. He was the master and the commander, the writer and the speaker, the king and the deity. A smirk crawled onto his face as the first cadet had slipped, initiating his shakedown of the recruits mentality.

"Congratulations, Cadet. You've become the catalyst to a world you'll wish your sorry arse was far away from. Speak! GIVE ME YOUR NAME." His address was...different. He didn't completely shout, more talk down to them aloud. His voice was booming, fuelled by bass and complimented by their outdoor environment. Maurer's tone was reliant on rooting out their problems right away, and so he did.

"R-Roger Martirou, Sir!" The identified cadet could feel the sweat pouring from his brow as Maurer approached him, closing the void between them by mere centimetres. He smiled to himself, chuckling at his anxiety and turning around to the rest of the formation.

"Cadets of the 122nd Trainee Corps, to me you are all the same. You are all a 'Roger', a nobody. I don't care about your names until you prove to me you aren't just a failed copy of this mindless, frail child." He turned back to Roger, looking at him with glaring inquisition. Every soldier had their weakness. He wanted to know it, there and then, without them explicitly telling him. If they admitted their fears on the spot, then it wouldn't be genuine. If they were to survive, the only thing they should have feared was himself. "Why are you here, boy? Why have you desecrated my training ground with your filthy presence?"

"I...I..."

"You what? Spit if out, go make mummy proud and answer what I fuckin' asked." Roger seemed struck by his comment, and yet Maurer didn't seem to bat an eye or any ounce of care towards the comment. Deep down, his comments were spoken with meaning, with intent, but who could see that. They were essentially children and teenagers. And they would remain that until they alleviated their disobedience.

"I want to serve humanity as a soldier, Sir!" Of course it was. It was an admirable, common goal that the majority of cadets had. They weren't the interesting ones, really. They could be promising, obedient but also creative. However, he really preferred the ones with flair, with something to say. It gave him more fuel to add to the fire of his verbal barrage.

"Congratulations, you're as interesting as a fucking brick wall, son. I'll have my eye on you, shitstain. Maybe you'll also have a chance at proving you're not some boring 'Roger Maritrou'." Even though his introductory barrage was light compared to what he usually did, he moved down the line, starting to hassle the cadets one by one. Each one he encountered, his aggression would grow. One spoke back, taking an elbow to the gut and crumbling to the floor. Once he'd fallen, Maurer saw the fear of the younger cadet's eyes spark up. He had their undivided attention, at least some of them. Finally, he turned up to a meagre, average height girl with auburn hair and emerald eyes. Even with a shiny complexion, he felt no brightness glisten upon his own face. He stood before Lauren, following his chain of not asking for any more of their names. "Holy shit, I'm bewildered at just how innately boring you all are. Look at yourself, Cadet, and tell me I'm looking at a soldier! I want to hear you tell me you're worth more than the shits I leave in the morning, or if you're worth anything at all!"

To his surprise, he didn't actually get a response. She stood there, staring at him with a tightened throat. Ten seconds passed, nothing. Eyes of cadets around her tried to roll in their sockets to get a glimpse at her, as if to mouth for her to say at least something. No matter how many pairs rested onto her, she didn't say anything. Was it reluctance? Was it intimidation? Maurer couldn't specifically narrow it down, but what he could take from it was who she was as a person, and so he started laughing aloud. He turned, bellowing out his chants of jovial mockery. His laugh lasted for thirty straight seconds, some of the other instructors joining in. Any cadet who joined in the laughter beyond anything of a visible smirk was immediately shot down by the other advisers.

Maurer turned back to the insignificant girl and cracked yet another smile, amused by her lack of a response. Fear, he finally deduced. She was plucked out from the rest by virtue of shock, the first of a few individuals he'd come to see as genuine from the start. It wasn't exactly a trait he liked, but he had a lot to work with now.

"You're already pathetic. Perhaps actions will speak louder than words. When I fall the entire formation out you will do three laps of the parade grounds to prove that you're a soldier. And you will do it without question? Do I make myself clear?"

_@Jinxer