Skyrte

Welcome to The Condor! (Always Accepting)

Hey Erklings, for my pilot I was wondering if he could bring his own dropship? He wouldnt be able to fly it on every mission since its not an exploration dedicated ship, but when we encounter bad guys the dropship would be much more suited for that. Ill include details on my character sheet so you know what kind of vessel it is, what it can and can't do, that sort of thing.

Knights of Elementia.

Is Venku still around?

Welcome to The Condor! (Always Accepting)

Do we have a pilot?

Lords of the Stars [Military Space Opera]

maybe im down, how many characters are we allowed to have?

Knights of Elementia.

The Capital, Elementia
Arno Volke and Oriel Shulz

Arno sat on the stood bench brushing aside his cloak, opting to take one of the few tables just outside of the tavern doors. The fresh air was crisper, and it wasn't as stuffy. He set down two tankards on the well made oak table, next to his shield, assortment of weapons and helmets. He pushed a tankard towards the woman sitting across from him, who gracefully took it and pulled it closer to her chest. She was a strange one, Arno admitted. Just showing up at his doorstep in his lodge, who nobody should know the location of, wearing a loose shirt and pants. She said that Arno had a great quest ahead of him, whatever that meant. He still fed her and gave her a place to sleep, rule of hospitality after all. She introduced herself as Sapphira, an Oread. Arno had no idea what an Oread was. Later she followed him here, where he sold his pelts from trapping and purchased whatever supplies he needed. She was probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on, young and petite. Though she was still taller than Arno. He could describe her as a flower, much like the red flowers she always kept tucked on her right ear, which never wilted. Arno wasn't a florist, but he had never seen flowers like that before.
"Just water." He plainly said to his new companion. She simply smiled at him, looking with him with her inviting blue eyes while sipping the water. "No ale, that's for celebrations. I've no interest in becoming a drunkard or making you one." The girl nodded. Arno scratched his beard, she was beautiful indeed, and thankfully his wide variety of killing tools and armor dissuaded any troublesome men from bothering her. He looked down the road towards the city center, where a huge mass of people gathered for some Knighting ceremony. Arno had no interest in it, but he was intrigued this time. He took a gulp of his water and looked back at the girl, who looked at him knowingly.

"I'll be back before dark!" a young blonde woman of fair complexion said before leaving the small tucked away library she resided in, bidding a short farewell to her caretaker. A kindly old man who was in his twilight years whom she would help frequently with various tasks such as grocery shopping and running errands, to even organizing the shelves of his small library. Oriel was quick as she moved through the crowded streets of Elementia; One had to be on such a day as this. The choosing of Knights to be defenders of the downtrodden and champions of justice...if only such people really were capable of existing. She'd given up on believing in heroes being left in the world after her father's death, and that cynisism was what kept her from walking in to watch the festivities. Passing by with a scant glance, the busy former noblewoman was turning to head into the busy market district before a glint of metal caught her eye, sitting on a middle aged man's table. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, or fate itself that brought her eye to it as she saw that familiar helmet...at least, she had heard a description of it.
Hurriedly walking over, the woman's bright blue eyes were transfixed on that helmet. "Are you...Volke the Small Demon?" she asked with an acute level of curiosity. Something in her eyes would seem familiar to him as well.

Arno looked up at the voice, "Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time... A long time." He looked at her up and down, "The answer depends on who's asking." Sapphira glanced at the newcomer, then went back to her drink, seemingly uninterested.
"I... n-nothing...my brother he was..." Oriel started, before taking a moment to arrange her thoughts. "He served under Aldebrand, and told me stories of a man with a painted helm just like that one."
Arno rose an eyebrow, "Really? What unit did your brother serve in? I may have punched him out during a brawl."
"He was in a foot knight unit. I believe he was one of the Fifty Peasant Demons of Schulz." the girl replied, not having to think about it at all.
Arno grinned widely, "Really now? Then I most definitely punched your brother out, and probably broke one of his ribs. I trained my little devils hard." He extended out a hand, "Former Captain of the 50 Peasant Demons, Arno Folke, the Small Demon. Hows your brother then? He still in the 50?" Arno asked cheerfully.
The amount of jovialness this small fragment of Oriel's former life quickly dwindled and burned away as her eyes lost a bit of their luster, avoiding looking directly at Arno as she said: "There...are no 50 anymore. Haven't you heard? Lord Aldebrand...was assassinated. And his men were either sent into exile or reinstated into the King's army. My brother was...one of the few that got neither choice."

The former footknight frowned at the news, "My 50 gone?" He looked down at his tankard, "And General Aldebrand assassinated?" His grip tighted and his hand shook, the man suddenly stood up, the bench he was sitting on knocked over. He threw the half full tankard against the wall and took a few hard steps towards the girl, "Who?!" He shouted, a few people walking by now staring. He grabbed his war hammer, turned towards the bench of a nearby table and dropped it on the seat, snapping it in two with a loud crack, "Who killed the General?! Who killed my Knights?! I will rip the spine from their back and use their skull as a flail to kill the conspirators!" He thundered.

Oriel took a step back, honestly surprised not at the outrage, but that one so loyal had been ignorant for so long. Gulping slightly, she averted her gaze and said: "None are certain...but...I believe only one man would be so heartless." in a hushed tone, before she leaned forward and gave Arno a suddenly quick hug before whispering: "Our King." and breaking off the hug. She made a motion as if she was wiping tears from her eyes, but plain to see to Arno, she was simply acting.

Arno was taken aback at the news, surprise stamping out most of his anger, The King did this. He looked to Sapphira, "You knew." She nodded, "And you didn't tell me?" He asked, his voice now much quieter. She shrugged. "Fair enough." He grumbled, after all he wouldn't have believed a stranger. This must have been that great quest that she mentioned to him when they first met. He didn't believe that either. He turned back to Oriel, "I'll need..." he stayed quiet for a moment in throught, he mumbled a few things as his eyes glanced up to the sky, "If it's the two of us at least six years, then I'll rip his spine out and use his skull as a flail. Maybe four if we can find proof to this assassination and get it out to the peasants."

A glimmer of hope quickly dwindled within Oriel's heart. Realistically...a peasant knight, no matter how skilled couldn't hope to amass the same army a King and his Lords might. Even a Demon Peasant. "Don't be so reckless...I've...given up on avenging my brother long ago. All we can hope in is a fool's legend that we'll be saved by some magic wielding heroes that will likely be suaded by coin and wine...just as our Knights already have."

Arno grimaced at her, "Magic wielding heroes? We didn't need any klazomaniac sorners like them during that three year long siege, or when we counterattacked to get out of that siege. Giving up is for the weak, and to be related to a man of my 50 Demons, you should not be weak. What was your brothers name? I knew all of my men, only a few mentioned a blonde sister. I want to know who I can complain to when I pray for them." He asked.

Oriel tensed up for a moment at the mention of her being weak, before she rather swiftly raised her right hand. Not responding to what he had asked, her palm was an inch from smacking across his face before she suddenly froze, words from neither of them stunning her and sending her into a cocktail of emotions.
"Oriel Schulz, you will be the next Knight of Fire!" the announcer called with enthusiasm, not knowing that his words had practically just damned the newly christened hero. Lowering her hand, she stared in disbelief at the ceremony, before clenching her fists, nails digging into her palm as she tried to fight down the urge to scream. Dread, anxiety, hope, nausea, and anger welled in her chest, begging to be let out before she hurriedly pulled her hood over her head. "...There is your answer." she said, turning to start towards the square.

Arno looked at the raised palm, ready to take the slap to the face. That was good, she was insulted at being called weak, and that anger could be turned into resolve against the King. He had a slight smile until she stopped. A name boomed out from the announcer, Oriel Schulz. The name of the Generals daughter. He looked to the city center down the road, then at the girl in front of him, who was visibly troubled. He put the two together. "Oh." He simply said. She moved to run to the stage, but Arno grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "Hold on." He quickly undid the belt for his rondel dagger, shoving it into her hand, "Lady Oriel you should have been trained in rondel dagger." He got on one knee, unstrapping the belts for his dagger on his boot, "We'll go over this quick- Lady Oriel Schulz you are now the head of House Schulz. I promise on my faith that I will in the future be faithful to the Lady, never cause her harm and will observe my homage to her completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit." Quickly saying the sacred Oath of Fealty. He finished unstrapping his dagger and tossed it to Sapphira, who handed him his warhammer and helmets. He quickly placed the warhammer on his belt and donned the helmets in only a few swift and practiced movements. He handed Oriel the arming sword. "Now if I recall correctly you have to get your scroll thing."

Oriel was ready to scream once her wrist was grabbed, but found she didn't need to. In spite of the danger he must know in her still being alive...this knight that knew her not was swearing his life to her. Biting her lip as she took a moment to realize she could not on her honor turned down an oath such as this, especially sworn on her family's name, Oriel turning the Rondel dagger in her hand before nodding. It had been a while, but she knew well enough how to pierce an eye with this. Strapping the belt tightly around her waist, the young woman would say: "Much as I'd love to skip this part...appearances and all. Wouldn't do well for a returning Noblewoman to run off like a thief." as she strode towards the square, confident that her Knight, who had shown genuine rage at the knowledge of his lord's death would defend her if the need should arise. She would need her father's old equipment however...ill-fitting as it may be. Walking up, she gave a graceous bow with Arno at her flank, a terrifying sight to behold as she had pretty much the angriest looking midget in the kingdom on her side as she ascended the stairs to stand at the banner for Fire with her scroll in hand. "May the fire in your heart never die." the bald announcer would say as she strode up confidently.

As they walked up to the stage Sapphira stayed hidden in the crowd, as told by Arno. They needed someone down there to keep an eye out for them if they were high profile targets of the King. As Lady Oriel took her scroll and stood by her banner, Arno kept at her side. That is until the announcer continued, "The Scroll of Earth, Arno Volke!" He loudly proclaimed. Arno leaned over to get a better look at the announcer, then he looked at Lady Oriel, then back at the announcer. He pointed to his face, a muffled "Me?", coming out of his helmet. The Announcer looked over. Arno took off both of his helmets, resting his bascinet in his great helmet. The Announcer nodded. Arno gingerly approached the Announcer and took the scroll that he held out. "Be the foundation of which great things are built."
Arno nodded and walked back to Lady Oriel, standing by the Earth Banner, next to the Fire Banner.

"Today was more than a coincidence." she said in a hushed tone, face still obscured by her hood.
"I'm inclined to agree." Arno replied, his gaze falling on Sapphira, who had a knowing smile on her face. They'd need to make a stop after this...and then quickly break for out of town. No doubt the King would soon hear that her head was available to be chopped...and to quell hopes of rebellion in one fell swoop with her as a Knight of Elementia.

Knights of Elementia.

Knight of Earth: Arno Folke

Name: Arno Folke
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Description: Arno is one of the shortest people in all the land, standing at 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Although he's lighter than most people who are taller than he is, he is incredibly strong for his height and weight. Over his body is a fair number of scars, mostly around his arms and legs, where enemies struck around his guard or where he was armored less. The most notable scar is a cut on his left cheek when he took a glancing blow from a warhammer to his helmet, which gouged a hole into the side of it. The jagged metal from the hole cut his cheek. Arno keeps his hair mid length and wild, keeping it away from his eyes with a piece of striped cloth. He also has a well kept short mustache and beard.

Knight Element: Earth
Familiar: Sapphira the Oread, Mountain Nymph.

Armor Style: Mixed plate and mail armor. Over the years Arno has gathered the funds to purchase more and more armor, and not wanting to waste, he's bought armor that compliments his previous ones well. Over his normal pants and shirt he has a long aketon, a padded jacket made of quilted wool to be worn under armor plate. The aketon ends at his knees, with the lower half having riveted steel plates attached, essentially turning it into half of a coat of plates. Over the aketon he wears a mail hauberk. Over that is finally a milanese styled breastplate and asymmetrical pauldrons, the left pauldron being larger than the right and overlapping the breastplate. For his arms, Arno has acquired Gothic styled plate, the rerebrace for his upper arm, couter for his elbow joint, vambrace for forearm and gauntlets for his hands. For his legs he's only kept his Milanese style cuisses, selling his poleyn, greaves and sabatons in favor for much more comfortable leather boots with steel plates strapped to them. His most valuable piece of armor is his Maximilian gorget, a fully articulated piece of armor meant to protect his neck. On his head he wears a quilted arming cap, bascinet with a mail coif attached, tucked underneath the gorget, and topping it all off is a painted great helmet.
Signature Weapon: A shortened Lucerne hammer, called the Falcon's Talon. Arno also has an arming sword as a sidearm, a rondel dagger, both on his belt, and a sword-hilt dagger strapped to his right boot. Arno also has a heater shield painted white and red to match his helmet.

History:
At the age of 15, Arno left his village to become a soldier under the command of Aldebrand Schulz, a kindhearted and charismatic noble. He heard the call, and with a desire of adventure, he answered. He was given a spear, a poorly made wooden shield, and no armor. He was trained for a year before marching out with a group of recruits. The next several years were rough, as the youngest and smallest, Arno was bullied by his fellow soldiers when they weren't fighting, and when they were he was on the front lines in the middle of the battle standing and holding a formation against another formation. As Arno became more adept at combat, he fought against his bullies nearly killing one. He earned the nickname, the small demon, in his regiment. Arno spent his pay on armor and weapons, slowly becoming more armored, more skilled in fighting with and without weapons, overall becoming much deadlier and looking more like those noble and wealthy Knights and Lords that strutted around with their polished and shiny steel plate armor. The ones who looked down on the peasant troops and used them as meatshields in battle.

Ten years after he had joined the warband of Lord Aldebrand Schulz, Arno had been promoted from a peasant spearman to a foot knight who fought alongside wealthier troops who could afford their armor, or had been granted armor by someone else. By this time Arno wielded his Falcon's Talon, had plate steel, and his great helmet with the mouth of a demon painted on the visor. While traveling alongside an allied group, a nobleman insulted the honor of Lord Schulz's troops. Calling his foot knight group a group of poor thieving churls. Morale took a hit as nobody dared to say anything back, how could they? After all they were peasants, and the one insulting them was of noble blood. Until Arno blurted out that the noble was a cox comb fool who had no idea what real war felt like, judging by the shine of his spotless boots and well groomed horse. The noble was insulted and challenged Arno to a duel of honor, to which Arno agreed. It only took a few moments before Arno had parried the longsword of the nobleman and planted his warhammer into the chest of the nobleman, denting his breastplate severely and throwing him to the floor. While the incident was swept under the rug, the peasant-soldiers of Lord Aldebrand Schulz told the story about the little demon who defeated the stuck up nobleman to each other for years.

After the duel Arno had gained a bit of a reputation. He was given leadership of a group of soldiers by the Knight in charge of the section that Arno was in. Fifty soldiers, hand picked, armed to the teeth and armored from head to toe. They were called the Peasant Demons of Shulz by the other noblemen, a name they proudly accepted. The Peasant Demons were an elite group in Lord Aldebrand Schulz's warband, sent in from the flank to smash into the rear or side of the enemy army. Arno lead this group of elite soldiers for five years before he retired now 27 years old, a veteran soldier of countless battles, a master duelist, and an expert at war. That was two years ago, and now he lives in a small wooden house near a village, keeping his skills sharp and working as a hunter under an alias.

Changelog

Changelog List
>1.1
>Fixed age discrepancy in History
>Added colors

Knights of Elementia.

Arno Folke

Name: Arno Folke
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Description: Arno is one of the shortest people in all the land, standing at 5 feet, 1 inch tall. Although he's lighter than most people who are taller than he is, he is incredibly strong for his height and weight. Over his body is a fair number of scars, mostly around his arms and legs, where enemies struck around his guard or where he was armored less. The most notable scar is a cut on his left cheek when he took a glancing blow from a warhammer to his helmet, which gouged a hole into the side of it. The jagged metal from the hole cut his cheek. Arno keeps his hair mid length and wild, keeping it away from his eyes with a piece of striped cloth. He also has a well kept short mustache and beard.

Knight Element: Earth
Familiar: Sapphira the Oread, Mountain Nymph.

Armor Style: Mixed plate and mail armor. Over the years Arno has gathered the funds to purchase more and more armor, and not wanting to waste, he's bought armor that compliments his previous ones well. Over his normal pants and shirt he has a long aketon, a padded jacket made of quilted wool to be worn under armor plate. The aketon ends at his knees, with the lower half having riveted steel plates attached, essentially turning it into half of a coat of plates. Over the aketon he wears a mail hauberk. Over that is finally a milanese styled breastplate and asymmetrical pauldrons, the left pauldron being larger than the right and overlapping the breastplate. For his arms, Arno has acquired Gothic styled plate, the rerebrace for his upper arm, couter for his elbow joint, vambrace for forearm and gauntlets for his hands. For his legs he's only kept his Milanese style cuisses, selling his poleyn, greaves and sabatons in favor for much more comfortable leather boots with steel plates strapped to them. His most valuable piece of armor is his Maximilian gorget, a fully articulated piece of armor meant to protect his neck. On his head he wears a quilted arming cap, bascinet with a mail coif attached, tucked underneath the gorget, and topping it all off is a painted great helmet.
Signature Weapon: A shortened Lucerne hammer, called the Falcon's Talon. Arno also has an arming sword as a sidearm, a rondel dagger, both on his belt, and a sword-hilt dagger strapped to his right boot. Arno also has a heater shield painted white and red to match his helmet.

History:
At the age of 15, Arno left his village to become a soldier under the command of Aldebrand Schulz, a kindhearted and charismatic noble. He heard the call, and with a desire of adventure, he answered. He was given a spear, a poorly made wooden shield, and no armor. He was trained for a year before marching out with a group of recruits. The next several years were rough, as the youngest and smallest, Arno was bullied by his fellow soldiers when they weren't fighting, and when they were he was on the front lines in the middle of the battle standing and holding a formation against another formation. As Arno became more adept at combat, he fought against his bullies nearly killing one. He earned the nickname, the small demon, in his regiment. Arno spent his pay on armor and weapons, slowly becoming more armored, more skilled in fighting with and without weapons, overall becoming much deadlier and looking more like those noble and wealthy Knights and Lords that strutted around with their polished and shiny steel plate armor. The ones who looked down on the peasant troops and used them as meatshields in battle.

Ten years after he had joined the warband of Lord Aldebrand Schulz, Arno had been promoted from a peasant spearman to a foot knight who fought alongside wealthier troops who could afford their armor, or had been granted armor by someone else. By this time Arno wielded his Falcon's Talon, had plate steel, and his great helmet with the mouth of a demon painted on the visor. While traveling alongside an allied group, a nobleman insulted the honor of Lord Schulz's troops. Calling his foot knight group a group of poor thieving churls. Morale took a hit as nobody dared to say anything back, how could they? After all they were peasants, and the one insulting them was of noble blood. Until Arno blurted out that the noble was a cox comb fool who had no idea what real war felt like, judging by the shine of his spotless boots and well groomed horse. The noble was insulted and challenged Arno to a duel of honor, to which Arno agreed. It only took a few moments before Arno had parried the longsword of the nobleman and planted his warhammer into the chest of the nobleman, denting his breastplate severely and throwing him to the floor. While the incident was swept under the rug, the peasant-soldiers of Lord Aldebrand Schulz told the story about the little demon who defeated the stuck up nobleman to each other for years.

After the duel Arno had gained a bit of a reputation. He was given leadership of a group of soldiers by the Knight in charge of the section that Arno was in. Fifty soldiers, hand picked, armed to the teeth and armored from head to toe. They were called the Peasant Demons of Shulz by the other noblemen, a name they proudly accepted. The Peasant Demons were an elite group in Lord Aldebrand Schulz's warband, sent in from the flank to smash into the rear or side of the enemy army. Arno lead this group of elite soldiers for five years before he retired now 29 years old, a veteran soldier of countless battles, a master duelist, and an expert at war. That was two years ago, and now he lives in a small wooden house near a village, keeping his skills sharp and working as a hunter under an alias.

One thing I'm not too sure about my character sheet is the Familiar section. Is it mandatory to have an animal familiar specifically, or could it be any mythological being?

Knights of Elementia.

Reserving a spot, Earth element maybe.
If there are open spots.

~ Squad 914: Beyond ~

I might consider churning the creative gears for a character. Thinking of a Brit that was part of the Special Operations Executive before Germany decided to blitzkrieg into Britain and turn it into essentially Vichy France.

@Aquanthe

I mentioned in my characters Experimental Gear section that a group of British SOE Agents brought early blueprints to the German walking tank, which lead to the development of the Russian one, and the armor that my character is wearing.

If you want your character could be one of those agents? Just an idea.

~ Squad 914: Beyond ~

It was far too early in the morning when she had to depart to the station, where a truck would pick her up. The night before the local supply officer gave her some trouble. Apparently her casual, non-regulation uniform was a problem. While she could bring it to the base where she would be inducted into Squad 914, she needed a dress uniform, and she needed to be in it when she arrived. According to the supply officer. Vera didn't see the importance in any of it, she hardly even felt like part of the military. Just three nights ago an intimidating Commissar showed up at her doorstep, told her raise her right hand, swear her loyalty to the Soviet Union and viola she was now part of the armed forces. She didn't even know her own rank! When she went to the supply depot the officer there gave her the standard issue dress for women, a very tan, unflattering coat and skirt. She asked for pants instead of the skirt.

So there she was, sitting in a truck with about five or so others. Her uniform was brand new, stiff and difficult to move in. While the others chatted about what they did, who they were, Vera closed her eyes and sank as deep as she could into the uncomfortable wooden seat. Doing her best to become one with the seat, though she felt like the only reason why the others weren't talking to her was because it seemed like she was sleeping, not because she was hidden from them. Much later she felt herself slipping into sleep when she noticed the truck halt. Not long after someone tapped her on the shoulder, "Seems like we're here, tovarisch." Vera nodded, slowly got up and followed the others out. She found herself in a mostly empty vehicle depot. Officers and other military personnel directed them towards the center near a small podium. Vera looked back at the trucks that brought them here, if she recalled correctly... ZiS-150 trucks? A newer model of truck, the supposed successor to the ZiS-5, a much older, but very sturdy and reliable model. They only started production of these trucks just last year, she thought to herself. She looked back forward, where roughly 30 or so people, mostly russian, were standing. She quickened her pace to keep up, leaving the trucks and her thought about them behind, standing behind one of the people near the rear.

A large, older officer went up to the podium, flanked by a number of military personnel to his left. He cleared his throat, which made Vera look up at him. He began a fairly informal greeting, introducing himself as their commanding officer, pointing out a few people as veterans and such. Vera perked up when she heard that there were veteran troops in this unit, making a mental note that she should stick close to them when the shooting started. The CO then gave them instructions that the personnel to his left carried documents for them. What sort of documents? Vera thought to herself, and as quick as he arrived, the CO left after telling them to meet him at 9:00AM, an hour from now. Though she didn't catch where. She went up to one of the men carrying the documents and picked out hers.

She looked around and saw that most people had already begun to form into small groups, chatting amongst themselves or flipping through the pages of their personal documents. She even heard someone mutter that he had been trained as a rifleman, not as whatever they had assigned him to be. The small Russian girl noticed that most people had uniforms broken in, with rank insignia, some medals or badges, patches which displayed their former units. Her own uniform had no such things. She felt vulnerable in this crowd of strangers, clothes too stiff, without her armor. So she walked towards those trucks to get a better look at them while she opened her document. She only took a few steps before tripping on herself and dropping her documents. She stopped mid recovery and saw the papers splayed out on the floor. She blinked before quickly gathering her papers, adjusting her coat, and continuing her path towards the trucks. She was glad that she was walking away from the group after that incident.