ONL

World of Light

Heavy Weapons Guy

Heavy Weapons Guy

Game Origin: Team Fortress 2

Personality: It would be misleading to say that Heavy is a simpleton. Yes, he is but a simple man, content with the small things in life, especially three things; One, his joy in violence. Heavy will be the first one in the group to jump headlong into the fray, be it armed with his trusted minigun "Sasha" or his two, bare fists, ready to knock some heads. He's not a killing maniac however, we must hope to dear God, but finds the thrill of it unmatched, and thus has little care for his own safety. Two, his friends. While he jumps into the fray of combat with second thought, he makes sure to stand between the fray and those he holds dear; the Medic at the top, and the rest of Team RED at a close second. He would take a bullet - and has taken more than one can count - for his friends, to whom he is most loyal. Three, food. What else is there to say?

Background: Heavy Weapons Guy, hailing from the Siberian wastes of the glorious United Soviet Socialist Republics, spent most of his time serving his new employers of Reliable Excavation Demolition (RED) and working alongside his colleagues. As what you may ask? Well, as mercenaries of course! Shooting, blasting and fist-fighting his way across sand-filled compounds against their rivals in the Builders League United (BLU), Heavy was fighting to pay for his family still home in Mother Russia. There isn't much else to say about Heavy and his past, except for his Degree in Litterature and skills as a poker player.

The daily meatgrinder of mercenary work came to an abrupt end (for a second time after the robots attacked) when another colour attacked Heavy and his team, or both teams to be more exact. Was light a colour? No matter, the important part was that Galeem, the Lord of Light, attacked both teams in the middle of their 'business', destroying both teams, the whole map and the entire world. There was no Medic to heal him, no Engineer putting down a dispenser and no Scout to taunt him in death. And Heavy was angry.

Specialty: Tank
Level: 1
Experience: 0/10
Powers:

• Sandwich: While also serving as a healthy snack for The Heavy and possible allies, the mysterious Sandwich has the power to heal significant damage and injuries just by being digested.

Strengths:

• Strength of a Siberan Bear: As his apperance suggest, Heavy is a incredibly strong Russian giant, much stronger than the tiny baby men of BLU. Heavy can lift things most men never could, and then some. Whether or not he should is a completely different matter, but he will certainly try.
• Taunter: Taunting your enemy into submission is an art it itself, one Heavy has plenty of from his days in RED. Heavy has the ability to call out to his enemies, throwing mean names and insults at them to gain their attention, focusing their ire at him instead of his comrades. After all, they are so small, it's funny to him!
• "Get behind me!": As the designated tank of team RED, Heavy is used to soaking up damage directed at his comrades in arms. Heavy can take more damage than most normal humans could, shrugging off minor wounds with his bellying laughs in Russian. Not invulnerable by no means, but this Russian bear can take one heck of a beating.

Weaknesses:

• Slow runner: Not blessed with a strong constitution, nor particulary long legs, Heavy is a slow runner, easily falling behind his faster compatrions. He's meant to take on the enemy head-on, not chase after them.
• "Less talking, more fighting": Violence is more often than not the answer to Heavy's problems, at least according to himself. He wasn't hired by RED to talk in long, boring board-meetings with BLU after all, he's there to fight it out. Heavy thus has the tendency to fight instead of talking, much to the dismay of his less violent friends. Don't get on his bad side.

Spirits: (See Spirits section for details. Start with none)

Kindred Spirits:

• Medic - His very best friend and most useful teammate in RED. This German doktor with the medical knowledge of a genius and ethics of Frankstein always has Heavy's back, blasting him full of healing energy. The two of them working together, nothin can stop them!
• Bentley - The Brain -

Inventory:
-"Sasha" the Minigun, Heavy's main weapon of choice
-The Sandwich

World of Light

@Lugubrious Awesomesauce! Writing on my CS now. Where would you like it? PM or here in OOC?

World of Light

@Lugubrious Hey Lugubrious! I see the RP is set to "Apply", but thought I'd ask regardless; is it still open for an ol' player from eons past? Already have the character in mind.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: (M7) General Housing -> (V) Chapel Skills: N/A

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It was not the downpour of rain that stuck out to Alexander from that week now passed. Not even when the raindrop dripped ceasessly down his face, hair and fingers, warm to the touch contrary to what most people home in Chicago had been used to. No, this kind of weather was all to familiar to Ol' Mugsy, as he walked carefully, yet determined through the rainy streets of Camp Mexico Beach. He'd been out in this kind of ran far too many times to count, even if he'd tried.

Neither was it the tremendous change of pace that really stuck with him, now that he and the others had spent close to two weeks inside the safe walls of CMB. It had been a less than easy change, more of an upheavel the first days of his stay. He couldn't speak for the others, though he felt he probably wasn't alone in that line of thinking. Yes, it had been one turn of a dime to stop fighting for your every living minute and then start a life of routines. It still didn't feel like an integral part of his life to wake up, eat breakfast, work, eat lunch, work some more, eat dinner, help Aeron in the basement, socialize or talking to Atticus, but it was getting there.

Hell, it wasn't even the fact that for a solid week now he'd been able to walk normal on his one good leg and his prostethic one. As normal as one could, mind you - the rain made his footing less ideal, but with a slow and steady pace it was just like trudging down a muddy trail somewhere in south-east Asia. The leg had been good to him, being that one small part that helped him feel less of a burden. So no, it was not that.

What stuck to him, just like the rain made his clothes do as he kept on walking down the street, his body focused on reaching the Chapel where he'd visited several times over the past week, was how much of his past life crept out from the darkness. With the rain, heat, military-styled routines and ever presence of the Army all around him, that morning's reveal that his presence was required at the coming court martial-trial, he felt as if hunted by the Storm behind him, Riders chasing the rainy clouds ahead of them.

Riders on the Storm

South Vietnam
Sometime early 1970's

"You ever think it's gonna stop?"

They'd been out on patrol all morning, just around local villages and smaller hamlets, on their way to a friendly US Marine Corps camp further east. Alexander was in the back of the column, doing his best to not step over his two own feet as they got heavier and heavier from all the mud accumilating on his boots. Boots which, contrary to his own complains to the quartermaster, "It's not the boots that don't fit your feet, it's your feet than don't fit the boots!"

"What are you talking about, Al? The rain?" Came the question straight back at him, sent with love from the L.A. surferboy, Mason, who'd probably never seen such a long period of rain before. Hell, he probably never imagined it was possible, save from the 40 days of rain in the Bible.

"No, Shawn, I'm talking about knuckleheads still liking the Kinks or the Beach Boys. Yeah, of coure I'm talking about the rain! Jesus H. Christ, I thought God was done with this bullshit after Noah. My feet are getting wet…"

"Well you know what they told us back in boot camp, it'll end eventually. It's just a short drizzle, and the proud soldiers Uncle's Sams Armed Forces don't care one bit about rain…" Mason sighed at his parody of the drill sergeants trying to toughen them up. They kept on telling them they needed to be prepared for combat in any and all climates, be it the plains of West Germany or the snowy hills of Norway, wherever that was. Clearly they'd forgotten about Vietnam.

"Well my second pair of socks and I do care. If it isn't Charlie in the trees, it's the booby traps they leave. If it isn't the traps, it's the snakes and spiders…and now the rain…the fucking rain…"

The fucking rain bothered him less than before, or else he pushed the sense of liquid dread past him as he approached the Chapel as intended. The court martial was due later that day, and before he would attend he'd need to get his thoughts set straight. What would he say, what would they ask and what would they say about Hunter? How would he himself deal with it, whatever the outcome? What would have happened to him if he was in the young boy's shoes. Christ, he was just a kid. That'd never stopped them before though, had it? The best place he could found that kind of solace was the Chapel. Whether he would be alone or not, it would be a nice place to collect his thoughts.

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Nigel Cooper Location: (M7) General Housing -> Quarantine (W) Skills: N/A

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Fortune favoured the bold it had been once said. The Latin phrasing of it would have gone something the lines of "Nil sine labore" or "Sine labore non erit panis in ore", in essence nothing without labour and no bread without labour. This would have been befitting Nigel to use as a motto for his family crest over the past week, amongst many other phrases he'd memorized over the years. The past week had been one of hard work from his side, helping Thana with whatever she had needed of Atlas to carry. It had been hard work, but if anything Nigel was a workhorse, if not a stubborn mule.

Thus the lack of work that day was a tumbling stone for him. Upon reading the list put up on the board of notice, it had been abundantly clear to the neo-Roman soldier that this legion would set sail for new, unknown frontiers of the empire. A teacher and then a soldier, he had been called up for the service of the law of Camp Mexico Beach. At first Nigel was surprised to be on said list, though he could guess why he qualified to be there. He'd been with Hunter during Quarantine, not to mention kept watch over him that night he crossed the Rubicon and utterly failed the die.

Nigel, without any tasks for that day other than the court martial and mentally preparing for whatever he would be asked to testify later on, thus made his way over to Quarantine. What else could he do? The outdoors showed more hostility than Roman taunting the parade of prisoners carted down the streets of Rome, while he had few hopes for getting to practice his melee that day.

Running as fast as he could safely through the rain pouring down, Nigel made his way to Quarantine to pass the time. If alone, at least it was dry and with books, perhaps something to enlighten his jury-prepared mind. It was with a mixed surprise that he found their former isolation quarters occupied by two fellow newcomers; Ashton the soldier and Thalia the one-armed Amazon. Clearly he'd entered just as Thalia had posed a question, him having missed it by a moment or two. While he could't answer her, he greeted both of them in his usual static style.

"Sautem amicus, good morning. Thalia, Ash. I see I was not alone in being drawn back to this room, awaiting for the court martial? I won't bother you if you are busy, unless Thalia would be able to provide a safe duel of sorts?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Education Center, Basement (M6) -> (M7) General Housing Skills: N/A

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Alexander would have a good hand with this that most others would. In a time where complimants were a rare commodity, one that sadly didn't put food on your plate, this was one that warmed Alexander deep inside. Alexander had to pull the side of his mouth into a smile, feeling that pleasent feeling warm his cold, wounded heart in a way only a friend could. He would cherish that feeling for many weeks to come, feeling useful, even more so than others.

He was about to thank Aeron for that compliment, choosing to not linger on what else he said about action being seen unwantedly. Like he had said himself, the war had been hard on not just the two veterans standing in the cool basement, but to countless other lives. Lives neither of them had met and would never meet, not even considering those who's very homes had become the battlefields of a ideological war between two superpowers. As so many words had been written in ink and blood about the war, speeches spoken and movies made, Alexander had no more words to describe it after what he had said; He didn't know if 'Nam or the end of the world was worse.

Alexander looked in honest surprise at Aeron, or more specifically at the key he held out for him. In a military society like the one they had built up in Camp Mexico Beach, to be offered a key was an exercise in trust. Alexander looked at the key for a long moment, unsure of what to say to Aeron before he was to leave him alone. In the end, as Alexander accepted the key and watched Aeron hobble his way out, he only managed to quietly say something along the lines of "Thank you too, Aeron, for everything…This we'll defend."

The room was cool and empty, and for a moment Alexander was too awestruck to even move the smallest muscle. This was a tremendous task for him, not in sense of scale but in honour. Slowly Alexander made his way over to a random stack of boxes, pocketing the key and peaking inside of a box labelled "Uniforms #2." Alexander understood what Aeron meant. This was not just a uniform, they came in different shades and forms according to the period, theatre and branch. Alexander, standing alone and holding up a beige coloured uniform, fought back the urge to let loose the dam of emotions balled up in him.

It was that battle he fought as he locked the basement door behind him, walked out of the Education Center and headed straight home. It was that battle between him and himself that raged on as he went straight to his quarters and made himself ready for bed. Leg popped off, shirt folded neatly on the side and rosary gently placed at his bedside table, he couldn't help but mouth the words in silence. The words that once again haunted him with memories, good or bad. Mostly the latter.

"11th Infantry…Butcher's Brigade…"

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Nigel Cooper Location: Beaches of CMB (E11) -> (M7) General Housing Skills: N/A

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Nigel stood around shaking the hands of Dusty and Bass, doing his outmost to commit their names to memory as so many of these callsigns had been thrown around his first week in CMB. Thankfully they were all friendly enough, bantering amongst themselves like Greek cities attending the Olympics in the golden days. While shaking the hand of Dusty, Nigel held back a chuckle as he was told the origin of his name. "I see, and am I too bold to wonder if and when us newcomers would get such names as well? Are we allowed to choose ourselves?" Nigel posed the question, thinking quietly to himself his wishes not to be known as "Sportacus" by the entire camp.

He would prefer "Hadrian", "Romulus" or "Mars", anything but "Sportacus".

The name of Bass came as no surprise to Nigel, the handshake of his measured to his deep voice. Names from what characterized their roles on this grand stage that was the theatre of life. Cheers for cheering while drinking, Dusty for the dust from his work, and Bass from his voice. What then did they see in him? That question would remain unanswered as the banter continued between the three people at the beach, now Nigel included.

"That makes sense, though what is it that you work on then, since you start later than the rest of us? And yes, my first day went quite well…swimmingly, one could say." Nigel answered Bass, attempting to pull of one of those things he was never really good at; puns. When the joke fell flat on the beach like a dead fish, Nigel cleared his throat and continued. "Ehm, I mean, yes I was with Sparrow, Thana today. I suppose she was thankful for my help, what with her leg and all. She impressed me greatly with that Hanging Gardens of Babylon you have. Quite the Wonder. "

Though soon the night drew heavy on Nigel, who bid farewell to Dusty, Cheers and Bass to find his way home. Home, the first time in many years he could call someplace home. Time flew as he walked through the emptied streets of CMB, into his sleeping quarters and onto his bed. Did he say good night to those he passed? In his drousy state, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that today had been a hard, but good day. As he fell asleep, he hoped that tomorrow would be just as good to him, of Fortuna herself allowed it.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Education Center, Basement (M6) Skills: N/A

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Alexander diligently kept up Aeron's arguably slow pace down the stairs, making sure not to force up his speed by seeming inpatient. Taking life slow and easy, it had been one of the things marriage taught him. Really, it was Judith who tamed the unruly hound, traumatized from years of abuse and turned into a joyal dog of a friend. With help for sorting his many thoughts, taking a breath and slowing down was possible, and so he took his time with Aeron, a generation his senior, a lifetime older.

"Ah, I see where you're coming from then. Sorted like a quartermaster right out of school, not one baptised in fire yet. I guess the same goes for anyone not experienced. I'll see what I can do to make orderly chaos." Alexander replied to Aeron's predicatment, leaning on the wall with his hand as they made their way down, the wall cool to the touch. Memories of the recent past and a certain incident involving cleaning agent, a hard floor and his butt passed him, but he waved them away in embarrasment. Aeron needed his help, and how much help could he be if he felt sorry for himself?

More than he usually did, of course.

"About Edna, she won't have our heads for up-ending her immaculate system? I hope not, if our work can help teach the kids some valuable lessons about the War…and how they're lucky not to having been there, even all things considered. Even I'm not sure where I'd want to be; 'Nam or here…I'm really not sure, Aeron."

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Nigel Cooper Location: Outside of Chapel (E10) -> Beaches of CMB (E11) Skills: N/A

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Nigel wasn't a religious man. Never had been one really, not even in his youth, and even in his self-imposed persona of a Roman legionaire he wasn't serious about talking of the 'Gods'. Jupiter, Apollo, Athena, he believed in none of them, though he found some comfort in invoking their powers of domains. If he'd lived over 2000 years ago, perhaps he'd been more pious? Who knows, there were plenty of atheists back then too. So when he approached the Chapel, he did not do so seeking divine guidance or Olympian strenght.

Perhaps that's what he should have done, he wondered. Robert, the wandering preacher, had invoked the name of God and shown kindness almost unknown to Nigel. Then again he was dead, so what good could God have been for them? Nigel did not known, and it bothered him greatly.

He would have continued in this existantial crisis of the very existence of being, when he heard his own name invoked by an unknown voice. Looking up from his sandy feet, he spotted the source. It was the driver from earlier, the man who'd driven them around the Camp and shown them all the important locations. The name evaded him for the moment, so did the two others standing resting by a bonfire, but they called on him. Nigel looked at them in brief confusion, before raising his hand, waving at them, and approached them.

Perhaps his contemplations in loneliness had born fruit?

Nigel came walking up to the trio of CMB-ers, giving them a friendly wave as he did. "Hey, good evening, all of you. Let me just think for a moment…Cheers I remember, and you two as well, but your names escape me. Dusty was it? Aaand…" Nigel attempted to initiate conversation, failing at remembering the name of Cheers, but putting on a friendly, brave face as he tried not to fall into his old habits of being akward. If he was lonely, only he could fight those waves and brave the sea of being social. "So, what is up? Taking in the scenery as well? In all the realms of Hades I've been through, this truly is a view to live in."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location:Outside of Mess Hall, streets of CMB -> Education Center (M6) Skills: N/A

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While with the thoughts and doubts weighing him down, Alexander did his best to carry them like he had hauled an overly heavy radio strapped to his back on so many patrols in his younger years. It was heavy, yes, but it was a burden he kept on carrying. That wasn't the concern. It was how long he could carry it, and how much he could ignore it while looking at the beautiful scenery that surrounded them. For as Alexander followed Aeron through the streets of CMB, those sights made an impression on the old veteran. The sun setting in its organge glory, children enjoying life to the fullest and...Alexander couldn't put his finger on it.

Somehow he kept on putting on the load, and kept going.

Alexander reached the Education Center still at the side of Aeron, nodding silently to the backstory of their beloved Father Atticus. While he, having told himself this countless times over the last decades, had trouble believing anyone aside from himself and his former brothers in arms could understand, Alexander wanted to believe Aeron's words. A battle priest, soldier of Uncle Sam and sheppard of God. Yes, he wanted to believe that anyone could understand his actions. Understand and forgive. Could God?

"Now that sounds like quite the collection then. If I find an old advertisement for any of my old radio sets or a Ford Granada. Yeah, that's something for the youngsters to be taught. Though I suspect and so I've heard that you teach the new generations far more...'practical' skills these days. Stuff we only learned in Boot Camp." Alexander said to Aeron as they reached the doors of the Education Center, glad to have a topic he could talk about without feeling weighed down by those doubts of his. Inside he gave a friendly wave to those milling about their own business, still following Aeron into this unknown territory.

The library sent old images across Alexander's vision, back to the days he spent time reading books and not hiding from the Undead underneath crumbling bookshelves. Not that he recognized any of the titles, though he wasn't looking for anything special. He was looking forward to what Aeron was going to show him, so the books could wait. "As old and sensitive as us two old geezers then? Sounds like the red-light room Judith kept in the basement of my shop back home. Don't want to ruin what you can keep, right? Has Edna kept the basement as organized as the library then? I thought you said something about needing a new pair of eyes to sort things out.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Streets of CMB/Beach (M9) -> Outside of Chapel (E10= Skills: N/A

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]

The sun was setting, the air was getting gently cooler by the minute, the waves washed up on the shore and...Nigel took in a deep breath, smelling the salty air in his lungs and trying not to feel too much about his current predicament. The world was serene at that moment, the universe in an orderly balance which had not been felt by this relatively large safehaven of humanity for what felt like a lifetime. It was easy to look at and feel like all was all right, and yet Nigel, when stepping onto the sandy shore of CMB, felt immensly insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Insignificant and wandering, lost before the waves of the Gulf of Mexico.

Nigel sighed again, noticing a pair of people further up the coast from him. If his eyes didn't decieve him, it looked like Thana and Ashton, deep in conversation. He had to chuckle to himself quietly, looking away and down at the setting Chariot of Appollo as the realm of night advanced steadily. He turned and started walking in the other direction, heading up the coast towards where he thought they had been shown the Chapel. Why? If Nigel knew for sure, he wasn't sure he would tell you. That feeling that had penetrated his defences earlier remained persistant in his mind.

Nigel sighed once again, keeping a slow but steady pace up the shoreline. Yes, loneliness was a constant companion of Man. Many a piece of poetry had been written about its titanic weight that rested upon the shoulders of even the strongest of Men, and how it could break them down. He himself would not admit it, but he could not escape the truth that ever since Erika, Hell, since he had parted ways with his three friends earlier, he had felt something missing. Or rather, someone.

He probably was not alone in having lost those he cared for, and really they were still around there in Camp Mexico Beach. Yet he did not have the strength to go seek them out. Was it lack of strength, or lack of courage. Cowardice was severely punished in the Roman Legions, but loneliness? What was that? A weakness, or a curse?

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Outside of Mess Hall, streets of CMB Skills: N/A

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They had more than just one session a week. Alexander wasn't too late and he could ask Atticus for some guidance later that evening. It wasn't too late for him. Alexander felt a strange sensation at Aeron's words, one of both relief, yet one laced with the heavy weight of responsibility too. Sometimes the old veteran did not understand himself, and perhaps he really hadn't done so for years. Perhaps the only thing that made sense in him was his prostethic leg, and that was added onto him not a week ago.

Perhaps that was what he needed. An outsiders view, a new part of himself to guide the rest of his broken body.

Alexander kept on following Aeron outdoors into the Florida evening hours, the weather less killing that before all things considered. On the way he caught sight of Manny giving him his friendly wave, smile and nod, like he always had for his fellow baby boomer. Alexander returned the gestures, glad to have such friends out in such weather they had. Though the humidity, that you never got used to. "That would be A-Okay, really. As long as he doesn't mind an old tech-wiz talking about his scars…No, that would be great, I think…I hope." Alexander said quietly back to Aeron, taking in the air as he cleared his thoughts. He didn't want to, but he needed that. To talk. He'd talked, really talked to only a few select few his entire life. His wife, his friends pre-'Nam, and Aeron.

They knew It, how It had been and still was. Now he needed to get those ghosts out of his head.

Alexander took a deep breath as they kept walking, one hand stuffed down his pocket and the other hanging loosely at his side. "So about those photos, amongst other things you've hoarded, Aeron. What should I expect? One of those shows about manic hoarders, their garages full of newspapers and junk? I mean I was no better with old fridges and TVs in the basement of my shop, but still." Alexander attempted to banter to his friend, pulling the conversation to tonight's activity. He hated surprises, especially if the photo from last night had been a taste of what was to come.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Streets of CMB/Beach (M9) Skills: N/A

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]

An open mind, pen, paper and dice. Got it. For an activity Nigel had heard so little, yet imagined involved nearly as much theatrics as his days of reenactment, the simply tool Rosie told him to bring made Nigel give her a second glance, then one aimed at Amelia. Really? Was it that simple? Images of fellow students at the university, all dressed in robes, capes, pointed ears and staffs conjoured themselves in his mind, but now all he needed was those four items? Well, three items and an attitude. Clearly it was the latter that would be his biggest trial. It felt ironic, for he himself felt judged for his hobby, and now he was in the same galley. Funny how the world came full circle like that.

Though the conversations still revolved around Hunter and his Herculean act of stupidity or lack of luck, one of those two. Nigel really hoped both Rosie and Manny were right in their judgements. Perhaps he should check those records Rosie spoke of. Would be a good exercise in reading factual texts again after so long living the nomad life. While thinking about his visit to the Library of Alexandria 2.0, Nigel nodded politely to Manny's introductions. "Manny, I understand. I will do my best to remember their names, for I've not had the chance to speak to the two of them much. I no way doubt their prowess, especially with two of them having had such losses. Perhaps I will spar with Thalia later."

Soon Nigel bid farewell to the leaving Manny, feeling a yawn escape his mouth after what little salad he'd eaten found its spot. While he had no real concept of time those days, it felt as if evening was upon them, quickly followed by the calm of night. Nigel said goodbye to Amelia as well, soon sitting alone with Rosie. Company was growing scarce, he was no longer hungry, and time was fleeting as always. Nigel gave his regards to Rosie, picked up his plate and handed it in. It was not long after that he found himself standing outside the Mess Hall, walking down towards the Beach. Not for any particular reason, he just wanted to take a walk somewhere.

Though he wouldn't have minded walking with someone. Erica, Thana, Thalia…Loneliness was not a close friend of him, but he snuck up behind him like one with a dagger.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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"Oh…Oh, I see." Was all Alexander had to say about that. The debt was paid, and the one paying it preferred to be remain unknown. Alexander nodded slightly at Aeron's explaination, trying to not think too much about it, even if his curiosity pondered. While he had his guesses, the old veteran knew better than to continue barking up that tree. Call it military honours or knowing when to leave better alone, it was not for Alexander to know. But he appriciated Aeron's sincerity, and the nameless benefactor, whoever they were.

A smile struck across Alexander's face at the talk of either producing pop themselves or raiding a Coca Cola plant. "Now that is an idea I'd support if we didn't have to much on our hands already, from the sound of it…" Alexander said back to Aeron, ready to reminice about the old days when a bottle of pop was the highlight of the day. It was cut short by the same sound Aeron compared to a ghost.

Not a sound, but a laugh…

"Thalia…what? I've never heard anything…I love Thalia like a uncle, but I've never heard her like this…" Alexander was stunned, not in a frightened sense but more along the lines of not expecting this kind of behaviour from his Angel. He looked with confused at Thalia for a moment, scratching his beardless cheecks before limping out after Aeron. They had plans to follow, stuff to do and shit to sort out. Very, very important shit.

"Ehm, Aeron, just one thing…Is it too late to…I mean, if it is possible to attends one of those meetings, the ones with the…ehm, shrink?" Alexander's question was hushed and brief, intended for only the ears of Aeron. He hadn't signed his name of the therapy-list that day, having been determined to push through whatever troubles came his way. After that day however, he wasn't sure anymore.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Nigel hadn't been in the mood to continue the converation about the game of DnD - as nice of it was for Rosie to invite him personally to the game - when there were bigger troubles at the gates of Rome than a lack of wine. Hunter had gotten himself locked up at Day 1 for Zeus' sake! The first day of their lives as real members of CMB, and he broke the law in some form or fashion enough to be court martialed. Nigel had to shake his head in disbelief, not knowing what to do, yet feeling immensly protective of the kid.

It was then with great confusion that Nigel set his eyes upon Rosie once again, attemtping to decypher the string of words she just presented to him. "You must pardon my Gaulic French, but what?" Nigel was unsure he had just heard correctly, that their system had processed those two vastly different cases? Perhaps it was the rigid Roman system of law that made the system of CMB seem alien to him, or more likely his life of absolute anarchy yet hadn't washed off the river Tiber?

Manny's words managed to calm down Nigel's fears, the story of the lady proverbially raised by wolves and treated like such a beast giving the Neo-Roman a brief sign of hope for Hunter. Nigel patted his hand at their table, seemingly in deep thought as he adressed Manny and the others. "I see…well if that is true a tale and you have as civilized laws as it sounds like, we may yet see Themis herself shine her beacon upon that troubled young man…"

Nigel looked down upon his salad, having poked it quite desperatly in his time of horror. His hunger had at this point drained away like shallow water in the Persian heat, and he pushed the plate away. Thinking about it, had he and the others in his old settlement been any better? Excecutions did not appear before him, only punishments and banishments…yes, he would hold onto his own words now. Let Themis guide them all in those troubling times.

"So…this game of D and D…am I really welcome? What do I need to do to play this game? And I'm sorry, Manny was it? You came in with the old veteran, Thana and the one-handed Amazon, didn't you?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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"Wait…the debt is already paid? By who?" Alexander asked Aeron abruptly, giving his fellow old man a surprised look. He had to ask the question, almost quicker than he had thought about it himself, for who would have gone and payed their debt already after just a week? It had been paid, not cleared, so it wasn't his former superiour from the Army days. It didn't make sense that anyone else had paid it down, as nobody else knew the who group…

Was it…no, could it? But she…how?

Alexander would wait for any kind of answer from Aeron, he too finishing his bowl of the lovely Tuna Casserole while Aeron spoke. In-between his own munching, Alexander had to nod and smile. He was right, seeing true happiness did wonders to even old wounds, especially those days. It had lifted ol' Mugsy's spirit surely, all the smiles and friendly conversations he'd had, and to see his loved ones safe. Alexander didn't say much to it, except for a brief and low reply of "Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. Amen."

The mention of them going out for a drink and looking at the photos Aeron had talked about all day, brought Alexander gently to his feet. He was determined, ready to get started on Aeron's promise from yesterday's festivities, hoping it would do him some good. "Sounds like a plan. I can't stuff myself anymore with the casserole, as great as it was. But I'll pass on the drink, just a water or the unlikely pop if you have." Alexander answered, picking up his tray and following Aeron's lead. It was getting crowded, a little too crowded for Alexander's own liking, and he had things to help with.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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For all the pleasentries being passed arond the table, now with the arrival of the older man called Manny and whatnot, Nigel was thrown off the horse as of the words uttered by Rosie: "Yeah, he fucked up." Most of the following conversation was drowned out by his senses, a sense of dread washing over him as he thought back to the previous night. Really, he thought about the entire week and how Hunter had again and again managed to put his foot in his mouth in more intrecate ways. And now he had once again outdone himself.

"Court…martial…"

Nigel looked up in disbelief at Rosie, then Manny as he reinforced her point. Indeed Hunter was locked up at this point, presumably in a jailcell or dungeon, whatever Camp Mexico Beach had for these problems. And to add insult to injury they had taken his dog. Nigel, while not close to the young soldier, had a sense of responsibility over the boy. Perhaps it was his teacher's gene that made him predisposed to look after the troubled legionaire, or he simply couldn't believe what he was being told.

"…One day, no not even that…Half a day, and he's already been thrown into a carcer…Oh by what threads has his destiny been spun now?" Nigel muttered to himself, rubbing his face in disbelief at the thought that there was no saving that kid. No really, Nigel was losing hope fast, and clearly the others didn't pay his fate much effort. He sighed audibly, looking down upon his tuna salad in defeat, even as it was not his own battle he'd lost. "There's no saving that boy, is there? He needs help, but seems too far gone…What will happen to him now?" He wasn't talking to anyone around the table as much as he talked to himself. Perhaps some people just didn't want to be saved?