If ya'll are still accepting apps, I think I have an anarchist faction in mind that could work.
Palamon
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History won't remember the critic, but rather those whom inspired the criticism.
8 yrs ago
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- Palamon 11 yrs ago
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History won't remember the critic, but rather those whom inspired the criticism.
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Male. New Jersey. Alive. Healthy. Something Something I like roleplay.
Most Recent Posts
lizard-people
CS INBOUND! Really interested in this.
<Snipped quote by Palamon>
Being from the military, I can tell you this - this is like an Airmen's dorm room (equivalent to a private) ... so for him to have been used to less seems rather odd. It's also very odd that this is all a commander gets. Usually high ranking individuals get very lavish and open rooms and offices - so much so that you can actually get in trouble for leaving a mess if your maintenance, in their offices. The only way this would be acceptable for a high ranking officer is if the ship is literally that crowded, haha.
Being in the U.S military myself (small world right), I can tell you that I know all this, and frist lietenants, what Daryn was when still in the military (or whatever the junior officer equivalent is the UFH) don't get quite so lavish loggings. Most Officers, in the U.S military at least, live in houses with their families. Having been a private before, I can tell you I'd never seen a dorm, and in fact spent all my time in a barracks with the rest of my battery (Artillery equivalent of a company). I'm taking liberties here because it's on a space ship that IS NOT, a military ship. I stated in the CS that all the Order ships are refitted civilian or church ships.
<Snipped quote by Palamon>
Don't know how it works for the churchy people, but in the military, you don't salute indoors unless at an official function receiving an award. :p
ALso, the reason their saluting in doors (on the ship) is because they aren't in the military anymore or never were. Their being a little joky and offering the Commander a salute because they know he'll return it. No one is going to get chewed out or smoked because again, it isn't the military. They follow orders ansd they get the job done, that's their only mandate as a knightly order. Decorum and drill and ceremony don't matter to them.
And last of all, thanks for this because I know it means that you actually read it an enjoyed it.
<Snipped quote by Palamon>
Nope, you fail.
Then it must be impossible, because the challenge existing to begin with empowers whoever created the challenge to be the judge. IT'S AN EMPOWERMENT PARADOX. I'm going to faint.
Existence Challengel:
Try existing without empowering someone.
Challenge Completion Criteria: Become so great that all other matter is inferior.
‘Heavenly Father, in the name of your only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, I denounce Satan and all his works,’
They just don’t understand.
‘all forms of witchcraft, the use of divination and the practice of sorcery.’
Some things can’t be worked out. Some things can’t coexist.
‘Lord God, I make this vow in solemnity,’
Some things are beyond politics and the will of man.
‘to be your blade, your shield, your angel of vengeance.’
This is why we take our vows.
‘I pledge my life and my soul to your service, and to your inquisition.’
☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨
The Archangel and various other Order ships sat in a security formation in Mars’ orbit. Smaller shuttle craft moved between the so-called “Inquisition” fleet, but for such an assembly of men and women so assured of violence, the fleet was calm.
The Knight Commander was standing arched over the table, staring down at the disassembled weapon. He picked up various pieces and ran a piece of white cloth over them. Each time he moved to clean another intrical mechanical piece, the cloth came up without a mark, or even a smidge dirt or carbon. Daryn hadn’t fired the weapon in days and even then he’d only fired simulation rounds on a training range. The cloth was always going to come up clean. But still Daryn continued to complete the job, it was apart of his daily routine, and he just wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t finish.
After he was finished cleaning, Daryn put the weapon together and placed it carefully back in it’s position on the wall rack above his bed. The bed, only just long enough that his feet didn’t hang off the end, was pushed into the corner, between the wall and cheaply made sheet metal desk. His quarters were not very large, but they contained enough room. A few feet from his bed was the latrine and a small kitchen area was nearer the door. They were better than what he got when he’d been in the military, so Daryn was grateful for what he got.
His wrist console buzzed, ‘Commander, the grandmaster has requested you in the CIC.’
Daryn looked at the scatter papers on the floor near his desk, and the mess he’d left on the kitchen counter. With he shrug he resolved to clean up later and left the room.
As he moved through the halls, men in newly purchased burgundy Order flight suits saluted and offered the day’s greeting. A measure not necessary or mandated, but done merely out of respect. Daryn returned the salute to most, but after a certain tedious amount of “Good mornings” he settled for a silent nod.
As he entered the CIC he was greeted with chaos, young men and women moved from place to place, performing all manner of tasks and jobs. At the helm of this chaos was the Grandmaster, who stood in the center of the room bent over a large holographic table that displayed the fleet’s position around Mars. He occasionally shouted something he needed and it was done. Daryn approached calmly, and with a swagger in his step and grin on his face that suggested he knew what this was all about.
“Commander O’Leary,” The Grandmaster said flatly without looking up from the table.
“You called, Sir.”
“Those stupid UFH politicians we spoke to haven’t moved shit along, and that bum of a president is just sitting on his ass while the Devil runs wild and free across Earth’s surface. It’s OUR home, and he’s done nothing to help us take it back.” He paused and looked up at the Knight Commander, who had his arms crossed, silently agreeing. “Pardon my language, but I’m fucking tired of waiting. I’m moving the fleet. We’re heading for Luna. We’re going to work on establishing a safety net around Earth’s moon. From there we’ll give our Federation reps one more chance to get UFH support.”
Daryn, nodded slowly, regarding the table where a map of the fleet’s flight path was plotted. “And if they say no, if it’s just us?”
The Grandmaster paused and looked back at the table’s holographic layout, it’s deep blue glow better illuminating the deep age and stress lines on his face. “The primary landing zone is in the Southern region of North America, on the Gulf Coast. You’ll take the lead.”
“Understood, Sir.”
They just don’t understand.
‘all forms of witchcraft, the use of divination and the practice of sorcery.’
Some things can’t be worked out. Some things can’t coexist.
‘Lord God, I make this vow in solemnity,’
Some things are beyond politics and the will of man.
‘to be your blade, your shield, your angel of vengeance.’
This is why we take our vows.
‘I pledge my life and my soul to your service, and to your inquisition.’
☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨ ☨
The Archangel and various other Order ships sat in a security formation in Mars’ orbit. Smaller shuttle craft moved between the so-called “Inquisition” fleet, but for such an assembly of men and women so assured of violence, the fleet was calm.
The Knight Commander was standing arched over the table, staring down at the disassembled weapon. He picked up various pieces and ran a piece of white cloth over them. Each time he moved to clean another intrical mechanical piece, the cloth came up without a mark, or even a smidge dirt or carbon. Daryn hadn’t fired the weapon in days and even then he’d only fired simulation rounds on a training range. The cloth was always going to come up clean. But still Daryn continued to complete the job, it was apart of his daily routine, and he just wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t finish.
After he was finished cleaning, Daryn put the weapon together and placed it carefully back in it’s position on the wall rack above his bed. The bed, only just long enough that his feet didn’t hang off the end, was pushed into the corner, between the wall and cheaply made sheet metal desk. His quarters were not very large, but they contained enough room. A few feet from his bed was the latrine and a small kitchen area was nearer the door. They were better than what he got when he’d been in the military, so Daryn was grateful for what he got.
His wrist console buzzed, ‘Commander, the grandmaster has requested you in the CIC.’
Daryn looked at the scatter papers on the floor near his desk, and the mess he’d left on the kitchen counter. With he shrug he resolved to clean up later and left the room.
As he moved through the halls, men in newly purchased burgundy Order flight suits saluted and offered the day’s greeting. A measure not necessary or mandated, but done merely out of respect. Daryn returned the salute to most, but after a certain tedious amount of “Good mornings” he settled for a silent nod.
As he entered the CIC he was greeted with chaos, young men and women moved from place to place, performing all manner of tasks and jobs. At the helm of this chaos was the Grandmaster, who stood in the center of the room bent over a large holographic table that displayed the fleet’s position around Mars. He occasionally shouted something he needed and it was done. Daryn approached calmly, and with a swagger in his step and grin on his face that suggested he knew what this was all about.
“Commander O’Leary,” The Grandmaster said flatly without looking up from the table.
“You called, Sir.”
“Those stupid UFH politicians we spoke to haven’t moved shit along, and that bum of a president is just sitting on his ass while the Devil runs wild and free across Earth’s surface. It’s OUR home, and he’s done nothing to help us take it back.” He paused and looked up at the Knight Commander, who had his arms crossed, silently agreeing. “Pardon my language, but I’m fucking tired of waiting. I’m moving the fleet. We’re heading for Luna. We’re going to work on establishing a safety net around Earth’s moon. From there we’ll give our Federation reps one more chance to get UFH support.”
Daryn, nodded slowly, regarding the table where a map of the fleet’s flight path was plotted. “And if they say no, if it’s just us?”
The Grandmaster paused and looked back at the table’s holographic layout, it’s deep blue glow better illuminating the deep age and stress lines on his face. “The primary landing zone is in the Southern region of North America, on the Gulf Coast. You’ll take the lead.”
“Understood, Sir.”
I'll have an IC up later today, got a long train ride to work on it. :]
--Edit--
Posted
--Edit #2--
Fixed the horrid errors. I blame the train engineer's... enginneringness?
--Edit--
Posted
--Edit #2--
Fixed the horrid errors. I blame the train engineer's... enginneringness?
@JohnSolaris
1. ON it, numbers eliminated.
2. Changing much of the app to reflect the new information you posted about the UFH.
3. I had indeed intented it to have been formed just a a short while ago. (Apologies if that wasn't clear, I'll begin a little work on that now.)
1. ON it, numbers eliminated.
2. Changing much of the app to reflect the new information you posted about the UFH.
3. I had indeed intented it to have been formed just a a short while ago. (Apologies if that wasn't clear, I'll begin a little work on that now.)
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