ONL

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Education Center: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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"The War Drags On" so to speak, that tug-of-war taking place inside the Auditorium. A war between those holding the reigns of Camp Mexico Beach and the power of truth, and the young soldier who'd seriously fucked up his chances at gently integrating into their military society. Again Alexander would have had little sympathy for Hunter, him and his wasteful ways that most youths were known for, had it not been for himself seeing himself in his combat boots. He dreaded the thought of being there, sitting in a chair reserved for the Guilty and having yourself spoken about like that, unable to defend yourself or simply walk away.

Walk away, something Ol' Mugsy had done many times before. If he'd taken Hunter's place, if he'd fucked up like that, would he have taken that offer and simply walked away? Run away from his problems, now that he was without anyone to support him? Maybe.

Alexander's forehead grew tense, a few beads of sweat forming and wiped away by his hand as the first witnesses were called up. First, the young lady who'd taken a special interest in Hunter it seemed. Alexander hadn't payed much attention to it, though now he could not help but listen to her side of the story. Seeing the other side had rarely been one of his strong suits…probably why he and his father rarely got along. If only…Clearly Hunter had spoken harshly to Nikki while drunk, claiming she lied. At this moment Alexander didn't see himself, but his own father, drunk as a skunk and making no sense except for hurt. The Devil's Drink did that to you…It was a shame, a real shame. As the next person, Nigel the Roman actor was called up, Alexander's tensed frown eased a little. What would Nigel be asked, and how would he answer? He, unlike others of the present company, had seemed more inclined to treat the boy fairer. Would that remain the same here?

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Nigel Cooper Location: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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Nigel spent the first part of the hearing listening closely to every word uttered. Be it the General laying out the proceedings and charges, Hunter accepting the trial taking place and Nikki being the first to testify, Nigel felt it was his due duty to do his best. The Law was important to follow, for if not, how much better were any of them than bandits and raiders roaming the outside world, or the very Undead themself? Rome was built upon laws after all. Well, war and subjegation, but laws were just as important! So he payed attention to what everyone said, the consequences for lying under oath and et cetera. Like he'd said earlier, Give me the fact, and I will give you the law.

Listening to Nikki's statements about the condition and conduct of Hunter the Drunkard, Nigel found his face slowly fall deeper and deeper into the palm of his hand. It was all coming back to him, the night meant for celebrations, but ending up with him playing babysitter for Hunter. The prospect of transporting Hunter home in a wheelbarrow resurfaced, which in a less serious situation would have brought a chuckle to Nigel's lips. Right then and there it only reinforced what Nikki confessed up front; Hunter was drunk, let his tounge speak like a fool and ensure those around him found him a lesser man by the drink. It was a sad thing to admit that he too felt like this, a true folly of the young soldier.

Nigel's head rose up quickly as his name was called up. His turn? Well that was rather early…then again, besides Nikki it was probably Nigel who'd spent most time with Hunter that night. Nigel quietly sighed as he rose to his feet, mentally steeling himself as he walked with determination up to the witness stand, where the Professor asked him to tell the truth. A brief moment where Hunter rose to his feet broke his stride, unsure of how to proceed. In the end Nigel finished his march. It was too late, the die was cast.

This was the Rubicon.

Without hesitation, Nigel the ever-dutiful citizen of Rome held up his right hand, answering the oath he was about to take with a simple sentence. A sentence that might very well seal the fallen soldier's fate. "Yes, I understand the consequences and swear to tell the truth."

The Roman sent a brief look over to Hunter, a look of conflicted feelings in his eyes. Sorrow perhaps? More than anything, to Nigel it felt more akin to dissapointment, though not entirely for Hunter. The whole world, maybe.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Education Center: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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The young Hunter was indeed a sorry sight to behold to the old veteran, with his thin frame and unfocused, almost confused look on his face as he was taken into the Auditorium. To Alexander, it seemed like the young boy didn't stand much of a chance at today's proceedings, though he didn't have anything to back up that except for bad memories he himself carried. As the charges were read aloud, Alexander eyed Aeron intensely for some reason, as if it was him who those charges were aimed at. "Keep yourself together, Al, hold it!" He demanded of himself mentally, his calm composure forced upon him as his found their way under his bum, as if their freedom would doom him for an eternity.

Perhaps they would.

Alexander's eyes finally broke free from their stare at his former top brass upon hearing the council's offer; leave and don't look back. It was an surprising offer for sure, one Alexander hadn't thought a military society would have given to the young Hunter. Then again, his worn out eyes did not forget who he'd looked at for a long moment. Aeron, the General, the Dragon had always been a good man like that. Would it prove kind enough that day? Alexander relaxed his tensed-up arms and he shuffled back into a comfortable position in the chair, still captivated by the scene unfolding.

Hunter decided to continue, to push through and keep the trial going, foregoing his chance of freedom. Alexander gave Manny a brief look, his face silently asking him for his opinion. On what? Alexander did not know. He simply wondered what the hell was going on inside of Hunter's head at that moment, while being frighteningly aware of whatever shit was storming inside of the kid. Was there hope, defiance or…nothing at all?

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Nigel Cooper Location: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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To Nigel the judicial proceedings were taking place as well as one might have expected, all things considered. The world as they knew it had ended, effectively laying an ever-lasting siege upon their fortified settlement, and yet civilisation continued to run its due course. Man lived, and Man followed the rule of law. It just so happened that those enforcing the law were military men, not those of the politican or civilian nature. Like Nigel had thought to himself many a times since he joined the Camp, "When in Rome, do as Romans do."

If only the young Hunter had followed that proverb, perhaps this very trial had not been neccecary.

The neo-Roman noted the way Hunter looked out onto the audience attending the trial, like onlookers watching intently on the gladiators fighting for their enjoyment and the glory of Rome down in the arena. Something stuck out to him however, as Nigel's eyes met his. Their look was briefer, though it was only a gut-feeling of his. Why? Nigel couldn't help but think of what time he'd spent with Hunter, more specifically when he'd have to take care of the drunk fool of a soldier. Wine could make a fool out of any man, no matter his merits or honour, but Nigel had yet to meet anyone who's fate was so precurious as Hunter's was at that moment. He didn't feel guilty for the young boy's conduct, not at all. He'd done what he could, but he did feel sorry for him as the charges were read up. From minor faults to the greater misconducts of disobedience, Nigel started to place his money on the chariot which ran for freedom. No further consequences, only a new fresh trail ahead of him…

Which made his mouth open in disbelief once Hunter declined the offer for safe passage out of the Camp. Nigel looked briefly at Ash for answers, then to Thalia in his periphery, and finally back on the defiant Hunter up front. This Greek tragedy was taking an unexpected turn. Would it remain a tragedy, or would fortunes favour the misguided warrior and grant him a comedy?

Current Mood in One Gif

@FilthyWeeb

World of Light

The Heavy

Level: 2 (5/20)
Location: Naboris -> Great Barrier
Word count: 758 (2 EXP)

Heavy laughed in delight at the sudden surge of attention to which he himself and his beloved Sandvich got from this new crew of Comrades, happily breaking it in two to distribute equally to both Braum and Queen Sectonia like the good Communist he was. Clearly both of them found it just as moist and delicious as Heavy did every time he pulled it out and ate it, sending terrifying fear into the hearts of his enemies with every much of the bread-ham-lettuce combination OF DEATH! To Braum the gigantic Russian bear nodded in agreement, though he had not heard of this longhouse of feasting or the Dwarven Scout's beverages, even for how long he had been around them and killed them. It did not matter, however. Heavy was just happy to be surrounded by these joyous folks who, like himself, found such pleasure in eating as much as killing! "Aha, Heavy will join next time feasting with big Shiel-man and tiny Dwarf-scout! Mind if Medic comes too? Heavy never leaves his Medic behind. Such a big appetite, especially after Medic had that surgery with Heavy…By the way, Medic, rib has not grown back yet. Is that normal?"

As if they had not gathered a big enough group of Comrades to fight…well, fight anyone, Heavy could see the people tiny fury Poppi pointed out in the distance. Heavy had to agree, they did make a stylish escape. Apparently they wanted praise, so Heavy gave them a friendly smile and a wave with his massive hand. Before Heavy could adress these new friends who he hoped to kill more people alongside of, the Russian brute had to answer a certain question of additional skills to the Queen of insects. That, and about his beloved Sandvich of course. "Heavy have endless supply of Sandvich in pocket, but not always live long enough to find out of supply is endless for real. It take time to…what is word, Medic? Respawn? Heavy happy to heal tiny, baby teammates if hurt! Be just like beloved Doktor!" Heavy answered quickly about his source of cullinary healing, quickly thrusting his arm into his vest and checking to see if the Sandvich had indeed respawned. With a shrug he concluded that it had not appeared, pulling out his hand and wiping off some crumbs that had followed his hand. "But Heavy have many talents, as Tzarinna Sectonia observe; Heavy can sing and dance like true Russian, striking fear into enemy cowards and inspire comrades! Heavy can play poker as well, and has played against fury white rabbit, tiny Mexican wrestler doll and normal man. Oh! Heavy knows literature! Be smart, have PhD in Russian literature, be useful in killing enemy." Heavy answered proudly about his abilities, clearly missing what the royal leader had intended him to answer. As an afterthought, Heavy quickly threw in his usual job-description. "Other than being credit to team, Heavy use Sasha to cover for own team and take many damage, while good Medic heal me and charge me. Happy times!"

Slowly the team known as Yellow Team was approaching what some of Heavy's new comrades called a cliff, for reasons Heavy was not certain he had managed to quite catch. He feared not though, knowing his trusted Medic would fill him in when the time came to cause some hurt, so he simply went along the flow. Heavy's ears perked up once their attention was brought to what was not a cliff, but a barrier. A great wall, greater than anything Heavy had seen on any battlefield. It was quite the sight, ruins littered across a desert landscape as far as the eye could see…well perhaps not. After all Heavy and Medic had spent an unknown amount of time fighting over a desert ruin. Anyway, Heavy looked with curiosity at the palace-thingy in the distance, listening with interest to Poppi briefing them on the obsticales in their way. Heavy, resting his head and thinking as hard as his bald head could, hummed for himself. "Hmm…strange animals outside…big wall-cliff…Where is Engineer with teleporter when team need one? Can Heavy throw tiny comrades from bridge to other side, like Dwarf Scout who shoot rope back?" Heavy suggested, perhaps surprisingly to the rest of the team who might have seen him as a simple fighting machine, not a thinker of plans. Whether or not it was a good plan was up to them to decide, Heavy could not think of anything better. Well except for fighting, and that was not going to help here…probably.

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

Hmmm, sounds like I need to actually finish my Afrikaaner merc then! Off to writing I guess!

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Alexander Polawski Location: Education Center: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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A strange day it indeed was, certainly a very difficult day for many of those gathered in the Auditorium. Alexander's senses caught the aftershock of Thalia's quacking incident quite late, seemingly being the last one to register that she had in fact made quite the ruckus in the periphery when Manny whispered something under his breath. The old veteran could barely hear what he had mumbled, nodding ever so slightly, slowly his head to his dentist buddy, as if to tell him "You're right about that." What a way to prelude today's big event. The trial.

Shuffling into a more comfortable position in the seat, he needed to find a good way of sitting with his prostethic leg unable to bend properly. Thankfully his efforts were a whole less noisy than Thalia's. He was growing impatient sitting in that large room surrounded by people, even though he was not the one being trialed that day. More than anything, it was the heavy atmosphere that made Alexander anxious, though Manny's presence by his side did help him to remain calm. That, and the realisation that his name WOULD be called out that day in front of the gathered crowd, ordered to step forth and answer whatever questions that'd as him. How should he answer, or even address the judge? And most importantly, what would be Hunter's fate be…

Suddenly Alexander became extremely aware of how the proceedings were just starting, his eyes locking onto the stage up front with the General standing up to speak. Aeron. Alexander had barely tought about his role in all of this, but it made sense. It also calmed his nerves, lowering his shoulders as today's events were explained. Methodical, in order and involving all parties associated with the troubled young soldier, well except for Wayne's piss-question, to which Alexander also had to hold his tongue. Yes, it was duly improper to ask such a ludicrous question in such a serious situation, and yet he couldn't help but imagine the same question being asked back in Boot Camp back in his youth before they were sent out for training. Alexander held his laughter back, his more serious tone taking hold of him as he waited for thing to continue. He had no questions to ask them, certainly not proper to ask then and there.

He was just glad he wasn't the one being court martialed that day.

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Nigel Cooper Location: Auditorium (M) Skills: N/A

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Even more people entered the Auditorium and began to take their seats after Nigel had sat down beside Ash, filling up the room and balcony above quite nicely. Nothing like the Flavian Amphitheatre - Yes, it's not called the Colosseum, get over it! - though the shear amount of people attending meant that these people were taking the Law serious inside those protective walls. All the better to the neo-Roman teacher, looking with favour upon the legacy of Roman law used in modern society. Well, what so far had survived the end of the world at least. And from how Volts explained today's proceedings to Nigel, he summarised that the trial would be conducted as professionally as possible. To that he nodded understandingly, breathing in deeply and awaiting the coming trial patiently.

To Ash's bodily response to the curious incident with the Hank just moments ago, Nigel too nodded in understanding to the mixed shrug-shake. He didn't need the usage of words to understand what Ash meant by it. Either way, Nigel thought he understood what the answer had been, and he couldn't agree more. When it came to Hank (and subsequently Wayne when the pair were together), ignorance was sometimes truly bliss compared to actually knowing what went on inside their minds. Nigel could only imagine what Siren madness drove both of them forward, and preferred to keep his assumptions just that. Nigel nodded back to Ash, sitting down and finding a comfortable position in the chair, and awaited the trial to begin.

While the offender himself was nowhere to be seen, the leader of the court stood up and explained how the trial would be conducted. It was none other than the General who informed the new-comers of how justice was done in CMB, to which Nigel payed close attention. When in Rome, do as Romans, as the saying went. He himself was seated down at the main section of seats, meaning he would be called forth to answer questions regardless of his wishes. What would he be asked about? Nigel had been with Hunter on several occasions, personally witnessing his less-than-fortunate interactions throughout their first week in the settlement, so he presumed they would ask about his assessment on Hunter's mental state. And to be honest, Nigel was unsure of what he thought on the matter. A troubled soul indeed, but a fool as well who did not take advice when given. It was one thing to be a fool once, but to not learn from one's mistakes? That was the folly of any man.

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

Which is why making headers has become the default for me, you filthy plebs :P

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

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Astrid Norheim - Gungnir

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"Next clusterfuck? What do you mean, it wasn't as if there wouldn't be that many FARC-fucks guarding a rebel military installation, protecting the President of Colombia, right? You make it sound like we did a bad job, when I wasn't the one to get spotted by that guard in the outhouse…Sam?" Astrid's playful words flew as effortlessy as the red-blue haired assassin had flown into the empty couch, laying down like a sack of attractive potatoes as Skye the Scotswoman answered her. With a newly-given glass of proper Scotch, Astrid put her tounge out to Sam the Dutchman. Yeah, he was an idiot and an asshat, but he was still good at his job. It wasn't as if she herself hadn't fucked up once or twice, but damn she still had more experience that little clog.

"Skål for us, indeed."

Astrid had to force herself not to snort out the Scotch through her nose at Sam's mention of her ass, more so out of laughter than of anger. In the end the Norwegian swallowed it hard, a single tear running from her eye as she began to laugh. "My fatt ass is what you kept staring at while I kicked yours, okay? It was worth that rib, at least I got some bones in my nose unlike you coke-snorting tulip." She quickly commented, hoping to avoid Skye's anger as she listened to Zurvan's fox answer…

"Too late and too bad, old man, I already did the meme. Meme is life!" Astrid bantered on, holding back her laughter as Zurvan got the fox's ass in his mouth, full of hair. Oh they were a fucked up group of operatives, but perhaps that was why they got shit done? Anyway, according to Skye they had more time for R&R before a potential mission on Crete. "A little Mediteranian all-inclusive vacation? Sign me up, I desperately need some more sunbathing. And no, Sam, I'm not going to the Nudist colony, so keep your cock to yourself. But seriously, like Fox-Man said, what do we know? I take it we're not going after some street-vendor selling diarrea gyros to fat German tourists?"

World of Light

The Heavy

Level: 2 (4/20)
Location: Lakeside
Word count: 569(1 EXP)

Once again Heavy had pulled his weight and helped the best team to victory. In jubliation and great satisfaction as he stood upon the ginourmous mechanical camel, Heavy once again raised his fist into a victory pose and did a little dance, quite surreal considering the brutish nature of this huge mercenary. He wasn't just celebrating for himself, however. To all his new comrades - and old ones from not-so RED and BLU team - Heavy gave a wide smile and open arms for anyone who would have wanted to hug the Russian bear. The only one who approached him was tiny, fury Tora, who gave him a well-deserved High-Five just like his American comrades liked to do. "Da! New friends to squash enemy like bug! No offense, Tzarinna Sectonia!" Heavy cheered on after Tora, giving the bug-queen a quick look of sincerity, not intending to actually squash the bug-queen like a bug. Really.

Heavy gave a confused look as his new and strange comrades started speaking of doing…something, which they weren't susceptible for? Rubbing his bald head in deep thought, Heavy didn't understand what they were going on about, only comprehending the fact that some other unknown comrades were fighting in a pyramid. Heavy gave a questioning look to Medic at his side, hoping for answers, when another tiny creature spoke up to the group.

Another member of the nobility, so it would seem. Strangely coloured skin, a prominent nose and long firery hair underneath an overly elaborate crown, calling herself Midna the Twillight Princess. The princess of midnight…twillight…something something questioned who this motley crew of mercenaries were and what they wanted out of fighting their fight. Before Heavy got the chance to introduce himself - AGAIN - Medic stepped forth and made it clear who he was, speaking in his funny German accent. The doctor was the only German Heavy actually knew, but then again Medic was also his best friend. He didn't always understand everything the German mad-man said, like how he didn't quite catch Medic's motivations, but he didn't care. To him the answer was obvious enough.

"I agree with my Doktor, we need to find our comrades! Also payment is good, and hats! Heavy wants one, two, no THREE hats! Yes, that would be good…" Heavy excitedly pumped himself up, beginning to even jump a little up and down in joy at the thought of recieving the priceless rewards of proper HATS. But he was getting ahead of himself, and straightened himself up as the introductions continued. "I am Heavy Weapons Guy, like I say before we fight former comrads of RED and BLU. This is Sasha, my weapon. Some people think they can outsmart me. Maybe…" Heavy presented himself, holding up the minigun for everyone to see, halting at the end to sniff at the thought of people making a mockery of him. "…maybe. I have yet to meet one that can outsmart bullet. Oh! Do not forget Sandvich!"

Heavy seemingly pulled another Sandvich out of his pocket, as if he hadn't already eaten one earlier in the battle, this one just as moist and fresh as the previous one. He is a loose cannon, but a damn good cop! Yes, Tzarrina Sectonia, is with tomato too; Bread, cheese, lettuce, tomato, ham and bologna, with olive on stick. Very good! You want? Heavy, Medic and Sandvich ready to break more skulls in pyramid!"

Foxtrot Oscar- The Eccentric Military RP

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Astrid Norheim - Gungnir

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Somewhere ABOVE the Swiss Alps
Soaring like a fuckin' hawk…
14:30 Hours

"60 seconds."

The tiny speck of a black figure flying through the air paid only the littlest of attention to the computerized voice telling the time. Sure, it was a good warning to receive for someone falling like a sack of potatoes throught the air above the mountainous region of Switzerland, but this black-clad figure wasn't falling; She was gliding. Like the "La Serpentine" fascility which the gliding was aiming for, her presence up in the sky wouldn't raise to many brows. Perhaps they should, certainly they should.

Astrid was gliding at speeds that normally would fuck your brains out. She, on the other hand, was the one doing the fucking. Figuratively.

"30 seconds. Prepare parachute."

Astrid's winged suit allowed for her to continue her descent, gliding towards a Swiss cliffside. To the untrained eye, the winged woman looked as if she'd hit the side of the mountain and become a Norwegian pastry. They would be wrong. Astrid raised her right wing, lowering the left, and instantly changed course, the g-forces jiggling through her gliding suit as she soared leftward of the mountainside and barely clipping the treetops that her descent brought her to. Astrid smirked to herself, her LZ in sight a brisk distance ahead of her.

"20 seconds till impact. Eject parachute now."

"Rookie numbers, Clair, rookie numbers."

The winged Norwegian assassin continued to glide effortlessly through the air, her black siluette now becoming visible to anyone standing guard inside the secret military fascility cleverly disguised as some Swedish Hollywood wife's L.A. mansion. This was her way of pushing herself to the limit. After all, she had been brought into Foxtrot Oscar for a reason, besides her great looks and killer skills. Infiltration into extremely hostile territory was one of them.

"10 seconds till impact. Eject parachute NOW."

Coming into sight, Astrid's eyes locked onto a small circle marked on the grassy parts of Foxtror Oscar's runway, continuing to smirk as the computerized voice was about to warn Astrid again. Finally she ejected her parachute, decelerating rapidly and gently adjusting the parachute as she guided herself to the middle of the circle, like some high-precision ICBM fired from a British nuclear submarine, only more gracious. Her feet landed at just their mark, her landing catching the attention of several armed guards who rushed to tell her she had not been cleared for landing, only for Astrid to remove her helmet and waving her red-blue hair at them.

"I know you guys are impressed, buuuut…unlike you, I've got places to be and people to eliminate with my killer looks. Catch you later, you won't see me coming."

1502 Hours

"So Jacobs, what does the fox say?" Astrid asked the first person (and fox) she saw as she followed suit into the lounge, now newly-dressed and hair washed after a safe flight. The Norwegian stepped around their resident First-Nations Canadian, giving the fox a quick smile as she judged its natural beauty as well as thinking back to when she'd shot her first with a .22 back home. That thing was still in the freezer, somewhere below all that mutton cranberries. To the two others, the Scottish claymore and Dutch stoner, Astrid waved cheerily and throwing herself into an empty couch. "Good evening, ladies and gents. Nice day for flying, or what you think? I know. What's the situation, Skye? Need me to give the Dutch clog a kick up the ass?"