Smike

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Victoria watched Luke and Diana take their turns and give their counter-challenges with an air of amusement, completely confident in her odds as she brushed off being turned down. She had been drinking past the point of excess for nearly a fifth of her life at this point, she could almost guarantee she had more practice than either of the other drinkers. Not to mention the other advantages the scarred Oceanic had over them. Luke was very clearly wasted already, it looked like just a whiff of whiskey would be enough to send him right to sleep. Diana was a positively tiny little cunt, even compared to her own freakish height. There was no way that the tyke's little body could hold enough alcohol to keep up with an Oceanic's need for booze!Or so Victoria hoped. It was going to be very embarrassing her if she lost. Not because of the punishments (as good as they admittedly where.) She had certainly done weirder things than strip naked and call people "Master" while drunk. No the embarrassment would be that she had been defeated at her own game. It was truly her match to lose, she wouldn't allow herself to be bested!

"I'll take your bets, you gumby idiots. Hope you like crawling around on all fours like a dog 'n' serving me in the nuddy, cuz that's how you're going to be for the rest of the day. It's going to be absolutely amazing 'n' I'm going to be laughing for every single minute of it " She gulped down her next drink and wiped away a bit of spare foam, slamming the glass back down.

Diana's burst of rage caught her entirely by surprise, Victoria snickering at the way she shook and sloshed beer all over the place. "Calm down, you utterly minuscule cunt!" she barked uproariously. "You're wasting perfectly drinkable booze!" Apparently Diana was touchy about her height, which made sense to Victoria. She'd be a little peeved too if she was so comically small she needed help reaching high shelves. That's not fair, you dropped most of it! You should have to take another one.

The wide eyed look of shock earned Diana another giggle. "What's a matter? You heard me tell you you're going to have to strip naked 'n' you thought it was going to be crushie? sorry to disappoint you but you'd best get used to it. In fact, I'm looking most forward to you two lovebirds kissing 'n' making up! And no dry kissing shit, I want tongue!" Clearly the two had some bad blood, it was going to be funny to see them mash face. They were both much better at talking shit than they were drinking and there was little in life more enjoyable than watching two naked teens debase themselves because of a lost bet. Three lost bets in this case.

When the smallest of the trio called out to someone else Victoria turned her attention to them, lazily waving a hand in greeting. "Bonza to meet you! Most people called me slasher back home, but Victoria's fine too. Heads up, call me Vicky 'n' i'll slit your fucking throat ear to ear!" Her lopsided grin stayed etched into her face as a sign that she was joking about the threat. Mostly.

When she turned back to Luke she was suprised to see him tossing back drinks like a madman, her smile wavering for a split second as she watched the soldier knock out two beers at once. She had underestimated him, maybe this one wasn't as guaranteed as she thought.

"Or maybe it is." Slasher thought to herself disappointingly as the man slumped to the floor in a heap. For a brief moment he had shown that he had the chops to roll with her, a rare feat indeed. But the candle that burned the brightest burned the shortest, leaving only two of them left. Oh well, time for him to take his lumps. Victoria crouched down next to the unconscious drunk, undoing his fatigues with practiced hands. First the boots and socks, then the pants followed by his top, and then the underwear. He was completely exposed for all to see as he was propped back up in his chair, Victoria tugging it away from the table so it didn't block anyone's view of his manhood.

"The so-called 'champion' is down!" she announced triumphantly to the bar. "Now the old cunt of a King is dead, long live the bloody Queen!"

She picked up another mug and took a drink, eyes boring directly into Diana's. " 'N' there's still one stupid peasant left to fucking CRUSH."

Academy of Noble Arms - Reboot (With gratitude to TheHangedMan)

Ellie was up long before her alarm, already dressed in a white tank top and jeans. She had woken up somewhere between 3 and 4 in the morning and hadn't even bothered to try and fall back asleep. There was no reason to be up that early, she didn't have any classes until 6 but there was no way she was going to be able to sleep again. Some days her sleep cycle just refused to cooperate and she would have to pass the time pacing her room with pencil in hand, stopping every now and again to scribble out a rough sketch of a bird or something. She would have preferred to practice with her Noble Arms of course, but she doubted that her fellow students and faculty would appreciate gunshots going off before the sun was up. It was incredibly boring but at least she wouldn't be late to homeroom. She had managed to get her raven black hair in order without issue, the long strands pulled up into a tight and functional bun.

The next order of business was clothing. The white undershirt was covered by her signature Air Cav jacket, the functional canvas garment hanging loosely off her frame. It was too big for her but it was totally kickass which was a good a reason as any to wear it. The young woman dug around the papers scattered around her desk and retrieved a half empty can of chewing tobacco and dropped it into her breast pocket for later but not before tucking a small pinch in her lip, gum cancer be damned. She was aware of course of the health concerns surrounding tobacco and she was barraged by images of cancerous throats and lungs when she went to buy more but didn't especially care. She enjoyed her habit, despite the fact it was shortening her lifespan.

Ellie grabbed the messenger bad that held her books and supplies before heading for the door, listening with a sort of half-interest to the Filipino students singing their anthem. It meant nothing to her, she owed no allegiance to the country she was currently in. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would be returning to the US in the future to protect her people and their ideals from the bastard Hammer of Masters or anyone else that would harm them. She planned on spending as little time away as possible.

She got to homeroom with a few minutes to spare and took a seat just in time to see a pale, white haired boy nearly break his neck on his skateboard, snickering quietly to herself before listening to Pablo make his introduction. The mention of the Disablers was enough for her to scoot her chair closer to the group, eyeing the three curiously. They were all younger than her if she had to guess, something that wasn't too suppressing. At 18 years of age she was a little bit on the higher end of Trinidad Academy's age range. And just like the bunch of teen boys they were, they were already verbally jerking themselves off over how cool they were. That was fine by her, she was no stranger to bragging about herself.

Drake was either trying to establish himself as top dog of the class or was just a complete tool, or possibly a combination of the two. Pablo seemed nice enough, a bit naive maybe but mostly fine. The white haired klutz was really full of himself, making illusions of himself appear with an air that reminded her of a stage magician.

"Name's Ellie, I'm going to be one of your classmates." she introduced herself lazily, bottom lip bulging with tobacco. "You seem pretty full of yourself, Drake. Teen kids still in high school usually aren't considered very good 'heroes.' She drew the word out mockingly, snorting like an arrogant horse at his bravado. "Can you actually back it all up? My guess is that it's all just talk."

Her attention shifted to Xris, dropping her hand on his table. "Your Arm isn't too impressive either, kid. A fancy stick and some clones aren't much compared to cold steel." Her other arm made a sudden movement as if drawing from an invisible holster, producing the garishly engraved pistol form of her Noble Arm and pointing it skyward. "I can put rounds in anyone or anything that rushes me with some sort of melee weapon. I call this one Liberty."

The 1911 began to melt into a silvery haze, changing colors and solidifying into it's long barreled form. "And this one is is Life. Seven rounds in each one, a total of fourteen problems I can solve without stopping." Ellie dismissed the gun with a flick of her fingers and spread her arms. A familiar feeling of warm, crackling energy began to course through her as a field of indigo blue and emerald green plasma surrounded her and took the shape of a massive eagle. The feathers of the mighty hunter were outlined with pulsing electricity, the bird of prey flapping its great wings and launching Ellie into the air. She was high enough that her head nearly scraped the ceiling, ensuring that anyone who hadn't noticed her before definitely would now.

"From up here friend, all your doubles look pretty small to me."

Her impromptu exhibition finished Ellie easily drifted back down, landing solidly on Pablo's table. The ethereal eagle dissipated in an electrically charged mist, the young woman making an over dramatic bow. She was grinning widely, always one to enjoy showing off her skills.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

The Oceanic watched the pair exchange apologies over something spat they had that she neither knew or cared about, pale blue eyes flicking between Luke and Diana as she adjusted the bandages wrapped around her wrists. She noticed the man's raised eyebrow, was Diana known for being rude or something? Or maybe he was expecting more of an apology for whatever happened. It didn't matter to Victoria, she just wanted to see the positively tiny female slap the taller male. She laughed at Luke's reaction to her nickname, jokingly making stabbing motions with her bayonet.

Victoria managed to suppress her amusement at Diana's reaction, sizing the tiny girl up as she shivered in fear and looked away. "Exactly how much combat has this girl seen?" she thought to herself. She would have expected a veteran to hide their fright better than the cute little blonde was. It was unbecoming of a soldier, they were supposed to be fearless! Although to be fair the armored car was pretty damn terrifying, Victoria could personally attest to that. It was something no one had ever seen before in battle and so far they had no reliable way of defeating it. All they could was pray.

Maybe a showing a bit of emotion was acceptable, under the circumstances.

Slasher snickered as Luke bragged about his drinking prowess, wiping away a bit of stray foam from her mouth. "I didn't say you're a lightweight but compared to me you may as well be a tiny rugrat, you wanker! What should the stakes be? It's no beaut if I can't take things from you cowards when you lose. Her ostensibly offensive words were offset by that crooked grin, her tone making it clear that it was all in good fun. She was dead serious about the bet however, she had picked up Charles' love of gambling before the useless bastard ran out on her. "Tell you what: When I beat you two idiots you're both gonna strip down past your undies 'n' run around this bar naked, clear?"

She waved a hand for them to spit out their counteroffers, it wouldn't be fun if there wasn't any risk for her! Hopefully the pair would each spit out a challenge, that way the two losers would have to embarrass themselves three times in a row. Victoria gave a grateful wave to the old bartender and a cheeky grin to the waitress, noticing how Luke stared at her like a witless idiot. She was definitely cute and was Victoria's type (really, who wasn't?) but White was really interested because Luke was. She was going to make this drunken doofus pass out in his seat and then cockblock him in a single night. "Listen, maybe after I trounce these two morons you 'n' I can go somewhere private? i'd love to yarn with such a beaut chick as yourself. the lecherous soldier asked the young waitress in her trademark accent.

As Luke drank down his first glass he she shrugged dismissively, reaching for another mug and draining it with practiced ease. "You should give up now, dipsticks! I've been drinking backwoods turpentine 'n' bogan made moonshine for years! I'm up one above Luke 'n' got two on the little ankle-biter."

Academy of Noble Arms - Reboot (With gratitude to TheHangedMan)

My post will be up tomorrow @Letter Bee

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

When Jean adressed her she dutifully turned her attention back to him, now checking him out as he spoke. The corporal was a Darcsen, she could tell that much from the hair, and a handsome one too, in a boy next door kind of way. He was shorter than she was, although wasn't uncommon, and lacking any obvious muscle. Victoria got the feel that if she wanted to she could lift him up and carry him off, something she was sure to keep in mind for later. She had been worried that he was going to be a stuffy cunt but was glad to see that wouldn't be the case, her lopsided grin widening in response to his polite smile.

Sounds bonza to me, ranks are for fucking tossers." she agreed lazily, switching the knife to her left hand to clean under the nails of her right as she stretched out her legs into an empty seat and leaned back in her chair, tracking mud onto her makeshift footrest. She would likely remember his full name but there was not a chance in hell she would actually ever use it. She shrugged noncommittally at the offer of condolences, grunting a thanks for being allowed to stay for the time. She was clearly relaxed and somewhat bored, only to lose the carefree attitude at the mention of Marathon.

"Are you being funny right now, mate? THE Marathon? Here, with the rest of us worthless cunts?" She wanted to run off and find him, beg for an autograph or maybe even to share a bed but thought better of it. He sounded like he had gotten pretty beat up, better to let him sleep off his six puncture wounds.

Almost before the corporal could even properly finish responding to her query they were interrupted by a fit blonde girl with the name Vastergoth etched onto her uniform pocket, presumably a member of the unit she was trying to tie herself to to. G'day, digger girl! Glad to finally be able ta yabber wit some Fed cunts, been up to my fucking tits in Imperials recently. Victoria caught the look of terror in the riflewoman's eyes as she explained what happened to her previous unit. It was a fair reaction, she herself had been and still was fucking terrified of the seemingly unstoppable menace, not that she was ever going to let anyone know that. Anyone in their right mind would be scared of the armored car and likely struggling with the sudden loss of so many friends.

Which made it all the more confusing when Diana told her how much watching young men and women die like lambs in a slaughterhouse "sucked." Is this cunt fuckin soft in the head? Private White wondered to herself with a sort of wonder. Or is this chick just emotionally stunted? Of course she didn't say any of this out loud, choosing instead to try and get a scared reaction out of her.

"Yeah I know it fucking sucks, I was there cobber. One of my buddies got smashed under the monster's wheels, the rest of the poor bastards were cut in half by a torrent of lead. Heaps of blood and guts, true blue killing machine it was and not a damn thing we could do stop the fucking cunt. Our bullets bounced off it's hide 'n' did nothing. we might as well have been waving our dicks in its direction 'n' pissing on the fucking thing! Everyone but me got fucking mulched to pulp. Hopefully that doesn't happen to us, right?"

Victoria idly cleaned under her nails with her bayonet as she spoke, sounding so unconcerned she may as well have been talking about the weather. She didn't need to overshare like she was but she was curious to see how Diana reacted. She was becoming more and more awed by the way the silly bimbo's obliviousness, had she really just moved on to complaining about her sisters? Of course Slasher could have brought up the fact that the girl had barged in on a conversation herself but she decided against it, deciding instead to let her eyes leer over the soldier hungrily. (No reason to not look over all the merchandise, after all.) The girl was definitely fit with an hourglass figure that Victoria found very appealing, and she didn't want to shoot herself in the foot with another possible hook-up. After all, she didn't exactly look for intelligence in her partners and the blonde wouldn't be able to say anymore daft shit with her mouth full.

She stopped idly daydreaming about banging her new squadmates when the drinking match in the background ended, joining in the cheers with a loud holler of congratulations only to let rip a snort of laughter as the drunken idiot fell off the bar like a complete lout. Victoria always liked to see people who couldn't hold their drinks, snickering as they stumbled and tripped. She didn't lose coordination when drinking, or at least not much of it. She just got really pissed off. Or incredibly horny. Or embroiled in a state of complete depression. Sometimes it ended up being being a combination of all three, those nights were really exciting!

Victoria gave the champion the once over as well and was less than thrilled. He was thoroughly average in looks with the exception of the bandages on his face as far as she could tell, and being so wasted you were unable to walk was a major turn-off. Although, she could see that he had noticed her and he was making his way over with two drinks in hand. If he was smart he could rise a few points on the attractiveness scale. Nice to meet you too, cobber. I earned this when an ugly cunt back home cracked a bottle over my skull. Stabbed her right through the throat, which is why they call me Slasher." She snatched up the mug with a feral smile, glad to see that Luke made the right choice. "I can't turn down a free bevie now, can i?" she asked rhetorically, raising the mug to join the toast. "Here's to grotty beds 'n' shitty liquid-gold!"

The mug was drained in an instant, Victoria cocking her head at the mention of Diana's mother. "Your mom's a tough cunt in a drinking match? I bet I could handle her, easy. S'matter of fact, I can take both of you two, right now!" she boasted, willing to put money on the line that she could drink more than current champion and the girl fixing her hair.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

The first thing Victoria did when she stumbled into the Inn was dig out a handful of crumpled bills from a pocket and toss them onto the counter. When asked what she wanted all she could do was gesture for the bottle that looked the cheapest, gratefully sinking into the motions of drowning with her sorrows with drinks that smelled and tasted like horse piss. Alcohol was her rock, the one constant she seemed to have in her life. It had carried her through nights spent sleeping on the street and brawling with the seemingly innumerable amount of other dirt poor street toughs, dulling the pain of hunger and cuts from blades and bottles. Almost all of her best memories were clouded by a haze of alcohol-induced fog. She had drained a bottle of dubious quality whiskey and collapsed in a heap of screaming and tears when the father of her child disappeared on her. She drank when she was happy, sad, horny, enraged, wistful and any other emotion that could be named. It was an every day event for her, either from the flask in her bag or a bottle scrounged up from somewhere.

One drink turned into two, then three, then five. Victoria was a big girl, standing at taller than quite a few men at 6'3" and she had had plenty of practice so she wasn't truly drunk yet, just tipsy. Her judgment was impaired enough that she became a bit grabby, a hand swinging out and slapping the ass of a passing Imperial soldier. She had earned herself a warm beer to the face for that one, the girl that had been the target of her affection muttering curses. Her target had been a rugged looking Federation trooper that had caught her eye. He was from Edinburgh, if the accent was anything go by. She got a good taste of it from the violent threats lobbed he lobbed her way. Some guys didn't like it when you grabbed at their crotch without a moment's warning, who knew?

This called for a change of tactics. One of the barmaids reacted favorably when Victoria offered to buy her a drink, only to lose any interest when asked how fast she could slip out of her skirt. "Bunch of fecking prudes, the lot of 'em." Private White thought to herself grumpily. That was it, everyone that had turned down her advances had been the problem, not her methods of approach. After all, she was a model of chivalry and good manners.

The final turn-down was enough for her to call it quits, the "Prairie Slasher" forking over yet more cash in exchange for a room the size of a large closet with a matress that could have passed for a stained lump of hardtack pressed into the corner. The walls were decorated with some mysterious brown substance that she didn't care to figure out what it was. So far, it was basically the same as home. The young woman dropped her shit to the floor and collapsed onto the "bed", wiggling out of her pants and tossing her underwear to the side. After a very satisfying date with the one thing that would never leave her she allowed herself to fall asleep next to her rifle instead of a warm body, a weirdly tall and aggressively emotional killer clad in a cape, bandoleers, slouch hat and nothing else.

----

She was back in front of the armored car, watching the destruction of her unit and the death of her friends. The vehicle was a hulking metal beast, advancing relentlessly under a hail of bullets and bombs. No matter how much they threw at it the monster still kept coming, an angry god of death supported by its rifle-bearing acolytes. Victoria stared in silent horror as a man got torn clean in half by a burst of machine gun fire, his mangled body getting pulped by the wheels of the Imperial's war winner. A grenade ended three more lives with a single blast of white hot shrapnel, pain searing through White's arms as she earned new scars. All around her men and women were gunned down like animals, blood pouring and bones shattering under the weight of a torrent of lead.

Victoria could handle bloodshed, she had seen her fair share of it back home. Hell, she had only been fourteen when she earned her nickname by shoving her knife through a girl's throat. What she couldn't handle was the utter helplessness she felt. She fired until she had no more bullets, threw every grenade she had, and the fucking thing still kept coming at her! Her comrades were all dead, she was trapped in a dead-end alley with nowhere to run. All she could was scream as the car rolled over her foot, sending her to ground as her femur was ground to dust. Her organs and ribcage were mashed to a pulp and still she screamed, crying out for anyone to save her until her skull was smashed into the ground and all went dark.

----

She woke up just after dawn, tugging the bottom half of her clothes back on and picking up her bags and carbine and before heading back downstairs. Breakfast was stringy bacon and hunk of bread washed down by more shitty beer, the meal was utterly tasteless. Victoria sat at her spot on the bar for a few hours, ordering new drinks in between bouts of stabbing the paces between her splayed fingers with her detached bayonet in a show of meaningless bravado. It was nearly noon when a fresh batch of dirty Feds clambered in, Victoria watching them with interest. With some luck, she had just found her new unit. Their highest ranked member appeared to be a Darcen which somewhat surprised her. She hadn't expected to see the double chevrons of a Corporal on the sleeve of a member of the most hated group in the world.

Before she could introduce herself the officer was engaged in conversation with some Imperial, Victoria tapping a boot against the dusty wooden floor as she waited. When the seat was freed she stood up and spat on the ground before making her way over, sinking into the still warm chair with a grunt.

"Private Victoria White, mates call me Slasher. she drawled easily, tipping her hat politely. Me whole feckin unit got smashed by the Imperial bastards, youse lot hirin?"

Her accent was heavy and somewhat hard to understand, not helped by her bastardized vocabulary taught by dealing with illiterate youths and spending not even a single day in school.

Academy of Noble Arms - Reboot (With gratitude to TheHangedMan)

Ellie was up long before her alarm, already dressed in a white tank top and jeans. She had woken up somewhere between 3 and 4 in the morning and hadn't even bothered to try and fall back asleep. There was no reason to be up that early, she didn't have any classes until 6 but there was no way she was going to be able to sleep again. Some days her sleep cycle just refused to cooperate and she would have to pass the time pacing her room with pencil in hand, stopping every now and again to scribble out a rough sketch of a bird or something. She would have preferred to practice with her Noble Arms of course, but she doubted that her fellow students and faculty would appreciate gunshots going off before the sun was up. It was incredibly boring but at least she wouldn't be late to homeroom. She had managed to get her raven black hair in order without issue, the long strands pulled up into a tight and functional bun.

The next order of business was clothing. The white undershirt was covered by her signature Air Cav jacket, the functional canvas garment hanging loosely off her frame. It was too big for her but it was totally kickass which was a good a reason as any to wear it. The young woman dug around the papers scattered around her desk and retrieved a half empty can of chewing tobacco and tucked it into her breast pocket for later but not before tucking a small pinch in her lip, gum cancer be damned. She was aware of course of the health concerns surrounding tobacco and she was barraged by images of cancerous throats and lungs when she went to buy more but didn't especially care. She enjoyed her habit, despite the fact it was shortening her lifespan.

Ellie headed for the door just as the announcement came in, listening with a sort of half-interest. Grace Poe meant nothing to her, she wasn't a Filipino. She did snicker a bit at the mention of it being required for all students to listen to some bullshit speech about patriotism. She had little respect for leaders that would require to listen to them prattle on about duty and honor and all that, it was a sign of weal leadership. How insecure did you have to be to force a bunch of students show up to politely clap and nod like puppets on a string?

She was intrigued however by the prospect of meeting Angelito Jaime, the Hero of '87 himself. That sounded quite a bit more interesting than politician she was barely aware of. It would be neat to be near him as he worked, she might even learn something from him. A buzzing from her phone alerted her to two new messages,her brow furrowing as she read them. Ellie didn't exactly want to hear the President's speech but it wasn't like she had anything better to do. And the mention of keeping the President's and Director's attention on them sounded sketchy as fuck. Her lithe fingers quickly tapped out the same response to both numbers: <"Fuck Off.">

Once that succinct reply was sent out she made her to homeroom, taking her usual seat and nodding polity to Ms. Ellora. More students trickled in over time, Ellie ignoring all of them except for the thin white haired boy that had tumbled in with the grace of a bird with a crippled wing. She grinned as he managed to scramble his way into his seat, surprised that he hadn't fallen off his board by now and snapped his neck.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

Victoria White

Name
Victoria "Slasher" White

Gender
Female

Age
18 January 1, 1896

Sexuality
Bisexual

Race
Oceanian

Appearance
Victoria is much taller than most women and quite a few men, standing at a full 6'3" when standing upright. Obviously this is less than ideal for the brutal trench warfare she's currently stuck in so she's adopted a sort of permanent slouch. Her body is mostly lean from years of near starvation, somewhat countered by the slight pudge of motherhood. Her brown hair hangs down messily over her face and around her head, held somewhat in place by her rabbit-fur felt slouch hat with a spare clip tucked into its band. The young woman has a permanently lopsided grin that morphs easily into a feral snarl in the heat of combat.

Her body bears marks from the recent engagement at Amone where her entire unit was blown apart by grenades or crushed under the wheels of an armored car as well as her rough upbringing, a chunk of her right ear missing and bandages wrapped around her wrists where shrapnel left long, ugly, scars. A jagged scar traces its way over her right eye, a result of a bottle being shattered against her head. Just as painful but harder to spot is the mental trauma from such violence. Victoria sometimes drifts off into her own world, a blank expression on her face as she witnesses the death of her friends again.

Besides the standard issue blue uniform and webbing she wears a waterproof canvas cape and slouch hat as well as twin bandoleers across her torso, a leather satchel hanging at her side. A heart locket hangs from a spare bootlace around her neck, inside is a picture of her daughter Elizabeth.

Personality: Victoria is open and friendly, some might say overbearingly so. She is perfectly willing to talk about her violent past and rough upbringing, she has nothing to hide. She is a product of her environment and she'd like to see someone grow up in her shoes and not be at least a little bit wild. She boasts often and loudly but only when she knows she can back it up. Other people would be wise to do the same unless they want to be tested. The quickest way to earn her respect is through a friendly drinking match or friendly wrestling match/no holds barred brawl, she believes that you can tell a lot about a person through how they fight.

She has little love for the Federation. Despite what the propaganda says she sees little difference between them and the Imperials. The Federation never helped her when she was on the verge of starving to death or struggling to make ends meet with a baby on the way. So she has little love for the Federation and it's higher officers. Patriotic calls to duty and propaganda decrying the Imperials as evil invaders does little to compel her, and if she thinks that an order would get men needlessly slaughtered expect her to "interpret" it a bit differently than expected.

With that in mind, there's little she wouldn't do for friends and loved ones. She forms attachments quickly and sees herself as the "squad mom", making sure that everyone's eaten and has enough to eat. She carries needles and thread as well as some yarn in her satchel so feel free to ask her to mend your clothes or make you a scarf!

She feels a certain sense of sympathy with the Darcens as a whole, having grown up dirt poor and living on the outskirts of society where the proper and decent folk wouldn't have to see her. She's never been discriminated against per say, but she's certainly experienced some of the problems facing them. The few Darcens that had lived in Prairie had struggled along just like everyone else, they were no better or worse inherently. She judges people based off their character and actions and absolutely DETESTS racism of any kind.

Rank
Private

Role
Shocktrooper, Squad Mom, Packrat

Equipment
SML-Carbine with bayonet, Sharpnel-Ragnite Bombs,

Potentials
Berserk: Being a shocktrooper requires a certain ruthlessness and a complete lack of fear. When charging enemy positions she became a snarling and howling beast hellbent on driving her bayonet through some chests. She also prefers close-quarters combat, excelling at using her fists and any nearby objects to bludgeon the enemy into submission.
Mother Bear: She's always there to care for her friends. Rescuing downed squad mates or providing comfort to a friend going through trouble is always her first priority.
Don't Believe Their Lies: Victoria doesn't believe any of the Federation's propaganda. They weren't there for her when she was starving, why should she care what they say? She's only here because she needs to feed her child.
Hit the Bottle: She's always drinking, but a really bad day can send her on a proper drunken bender. A particular gruesome battle will have her reaching for the bottle before seeking medical attention.

Biography
Victoria White was born in the year 1896 to a poor family of farmers in the town of Prairie, Oceania. It was a farming community originally and its people used to be able to make a decent living selling their livestock and crops. But roughly ten years before her birth the fields had turned fallow and the land was caught in a drought. Once successful farms soon struggled to feed their own children and more and more beggars began to fill the street. It wasn't very long until people actually began to die of starvation. That was the world Jack and Margret White brought their daughter into, and they regretted it.

The poor girl had been an accident of course, what kind of parents would want to have a child when they wouldn't be able to know when their next meal was coming? Both her mother and father worked near constantly either trying to scrape some manner of living out of the dust or preforming odd jobs for a bit of extra cash so she was largely cared for by her grandmother and three siblings, each ten years her senior. Her two brothers and one sister taught her how to mix a bit of sawdust into flour to stretch it, how to break into abandoned homes and farmsteads and strip them of any left behind valuables that could be sold. At night her grandmother made her learn the alphabet and basic math so "some crooked bastard doesn't cheat you."

It was a strange education but it was the one she needed to survive. By the time she was ten all of her siblings had left for the cities pf Randgriz, Melvere and Koln in search of work, joining an exodus that had been steadily lowering the population of Prairie. By now the famine was mostly over but the damage was done. Prairie was dying, the people that remained only stayed because they had nowhere else to turn. Without her siblings to guide her Victoria fell in with one of the packs of jobless and ambition-less youths roaming the streets, the Scarlet Slicers they called themselves. They spent their days throwing bricks through windows and fighting over turf with makeshift clubs constructed of fence-posts and bottles.

She started as a pickpocket and soon graduated to professional ruffian, hanging out on the corner and carrying knives. She was caught multiple times scrawling graffiti on rival gangs territory and "earned her fangs" in many back alley brawls. By the time she was fourteen her family would have nothing to do with her so she began sleeping on the streets or on a grimy mattress in the shack of some fellow hoodlum. She started drinking and never stopped, getting blackout drunk at parties and late night meet ups. Sometimes she was flirty, other times violent. Once she earned herself a permanent scar when a member of another street gang, the Women of Limbo, smashed a bottle against her head. In a drunken rage Victoria stabbed the girl to death. That incident earned her the nickname of "Slasher".

By fifteen she had ended up in the arms of Charles, a handsome young man four years her senior. He was a smooth talking con-artist that could make money appear as if from nowhere with any number of scams. They ran wild together both outside and in the bedroom and eventually the inevitable happened: Victoria was pregnant at the age of sixteen. Charles assured her that it would be all right, he would make enough money for them to move deep into the Federation but it never happened. The money they gained was spent on alcohol for her and gambling for him. Three months into her pregnancy and he was gone, disappearing from her life.

With nowhere else to turn Victoria begged forgiveness from her family. They brought her back into the fold, not wanting to abandon the girl like her "lover" had. Grandma Liz helped her through it, having gotten pregnant herself when she was only twenty years old. Time passed by and after a difficult Elizabeth White was born, named for her great-grandmother. Victoria fell in love with her daughter immediately, but was trapped in the same situation as her own parents. How was she supposed to feed her baby?

Her siblings had left to search for work in the cities but that was no guaranteed thing. Farming was out, she had seen the results of relying on the land. She had no skills except sewing, knitting and street-fighting. Luckily for her, war was brewing. She signed up the Oceania Expeditionary Force and Victoria the Slasher abandoned her dusty and tattered pants and shirt for the blue uniform and slouch hat of Private White. She entered boot camp and quickly became friends with the young men and woman she would spend her service fighting alongside.

Until the armored car killed all of them of course. She was the only survivor, everyone else was cut in half by machine gun fire or smashed under the wheels. Victoria managed to escape with only a few new scars and the need to find a new unit to attach herself to. Now all she has to do is survive the war so she can keep sending money home to care for her daughter and then track down the worthless son-of-a-bitch who ran out on his own child.

Affiliations
Jack White (Father, 47)
Margret White (Mother, 41)
Liz Dawson (Grandmother, 61)
Elizabeth White (Daughter, 2)
John, Edward, and Mary White (Siblings, all 28)
Charles Blake (Worthless Bastard, 22)

Relationships
None yet

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard ~

@LetMeDoStuff

Victoria White

Name
Victoria "Slasher" White

Gender
Female

Age
18 January 1, 1896

Sexuality
Bisexual

Race
Oceanian

Appearance
Victoria is much taller than most women and quite a few men, standing at a full 6'3" when standing upright. Obviously this is less than ideal for the brutal trench warfare she's currently stuck in so she's adopted a sort of permanent slouch. Her body is mostly lean from years of near starvation, somewhat countered by the slight pudge of motherhood. Her brown hair hangs down messily over her face and around her head, held somewhat in place by her rabbit-fur felt slouch hat with a spare clip tucked into its band. The young woman has a permanently lopsided grin that morphs easily into a feral snarl in the heat of combat.

Her body bears marks from the recent engagement at Amone where her entire unit was blown apart by grenades or crushed under the wheels of an armored car as well as her rough upbringing, a chunk of her right ear missing and bandages wrapped around her wrists where shrapnel left long, ugly, scars. A jagged scar traces its way over her right eye, a result of a bottle being shattered against her head. Just as painful but harder to spot is the mental trauma from such violence. Victoria sometimes drifts off into her own world, a blank expression on her face as she witnesses the death of her friends again.

Besides the standard issue blue uniform and webbing she wears a waterproof canvas cape and slouch hat as well as twin bandoleers across her torso, a leather satchel hanging at her side. A heart locket hangs from a spare bootlace around her neck, inside is a picture of her daughter Elizabeth.

Personality: Victoria is open and friendly, some might say overbearingly so. She is perfectly willing to talk about her violent past and rough upbringing, she has nothing to hide. She is a product of her environment and she'd like to see someone grow up in her shoes and not be at least a little bit wild. She boasts often and loudly but only when she knows she can back it up. Other people would be wise to do the same unless they want to be tested. The quickest way to earn her respect is through a friendly drinking match or friendly wrestling match/no holds barred brawl, she believes that you can tell a lot about a person through how they fight.

She has little love for the Federation. Despite what the propaganda says she sees little difference between them and the Imperials. The Federation never helped her when she was on the verge of starving to death or struggling to make ends meet with a baby on the way. So she has little love for the Federation and it's higher officers. Patriotic calls to duty and propaganda decrying the Imperials as evil invaders does little to compel her, and if she thinks that an order would get men needlessly slaughtered expect her to "interpret" it a bit differently than expected.

With that in mind, there's little she wouldn't do for friends and loved ones. She forms attachments quickly and sees herself as the "squad mom", making sure that everyone's eaten and has enough to eat. She carries needles and thread as well as some yarn in her satchel so feel free to ask her to mend your clothes or make you a scarf!

She feels a certain sense of sympathy with the Darcens as a whole, having grown up dirt poor and living on the outskirts of society where the proper and decent folk wouldn't have to see her. She's never been discriminated against per say, but she's certainly experienced some of the problems facing them. The few Darcens that had lived in Prairie had struggled along just like everyone else, they were no better or worse inherently. She judges people based off their character and actions and absolutely DETESTS racism of any kind.

Rank
Private

Role
Shocktrooper, Squad Mom, Packrat

Equipment
SML-Carbine with bayonet, Sharpnel-Ragnite Bombs,

Potentials
Berserk: Being a shocktrooper requires a certain ruthlessness and a complete lack of fear. When charging enemy positions she became a snarling and howling beast hellbent on driving her bayonet through some chests. She also prefers close-quarters combat, excelling at using her fists and any nearby objects to bludgeon the enemy into submission.
Mother Bear: She's always there to care for her friends. Rescuing downed squad mates or providing comfort to a friend going through trouble is always her first priority.
Don't Believe Their Lies: Victoria doesn't believe any of the Federation's propaganda. They weren't there for her when she was starving, why should she care what they say? She's only here because she needs to feed her child.
Hit the Bottle: She's always drinking, but a really bad day can send her on a proper drunken bender. A particular gruesome battle will have her reaching for the bottle before seeking medical attention.

Biography
Victoria White was born in the year 1896 to a poor family of farmers in the town of Prairie, Oceania. It was a farming community originally and its people used to be able to make a decent living selling their livestock and crops. But roughly ten years before her birth the fields had turned fallow and the land was caught in a drought. Once successful farms soon struggled to feed their own children and more and more beggars began to fill the street. It wasn't very long until people actually began to die of starvation. That was the world Jack and Margret White brought their daughter into, and they regretted it.

The poor girl had been an accident of course, what kind of parents would want to have a child when they wouldn't be able to know when their next meal was coming? Both her mother and father worked near constantly either trying to scrape some manner of living out of the dust or preforming odd jobs for a bit of extra cash so she was largely cared for by her grandmother and three siblings, each ten years her senior. Her two brothers and one sister taught her how to mix a bit of sawdust into flour to stretch it, how to break into abandoned homes and farmsteads and strip them of any left behind valuables that could be sold. At night her grandmother made her learn the alphabet and basic math so "some crooked bastard doesn't cheat you."

It was a strange education but it was the one she needed to survive. By the time she was ten all of her siblings had left for the cities pf Randgriz, Melvere and Koln in search of work, joining an exodus that had been steadily lowering the population of Prairie. By now the famine was mostly over but the damage was done. Prairie was dying, the people that remained only stayed because they had nowhere else to turn. Without her siblings to guide her Victoria fell in with one of the packs of jobless and ambition-less youths roaming the streets, the Scarlet Slicers they called themselves. They spent their days throwing bricks through windows and fighting over turf with makeshift clubs constructed of fence-posts and bottles.

She started as a pickpocket and soon graduated to professional ruffian, hanging out on the corner and carrying knives. She was caught multiple times scrawling graffiti on rival gangs territory and "earned her fangs" in many back alley brawls. By the time she was fourteen her family would have nothing to do with her so she began sleeping on the streets or on a grimy mattress in the shack of some fellow hoodlum. She started drinking and never stopped, getting blackout drunk at parties and late night meet ups. Sometimes she was flirty, other times violent. Once she earned herself a permanent scar when a member of another street gang, the Women of Limbo, smashed a bottle against her head. In a drunken rage Victoria stabbed the girl to death. That incident earned her the nickname of "Slasher".

By fifteen she had ended up in the arms of Charles, a handsome young man four years her senior. He was a smooth talking con-artist that could make money appear as if from nowhere with any number of scams. They ran wild together both outside and in the bedroom and eventually the inevitable happened: Victoria was pregnant at the age of sixteen. Charles assured her that it would be all right, he would make enough money for them to move deep into the Federation but it never happened. The money they gained was spent on alcohol for her and gambling for him. Three months into her pregnancy and he was gone, disappearing from her life.

With nowhere else to turn Victoria begged forgiveness from her family. They brought her back into the fold, not wanting to abandon the girl like her "lover" had. Grandma Liz helped her through it, having gotten pregnant herself when she was only twenty years old. Time passed by and after a difficult Elizabeth White was born, named for her great-grandmother. Victoria fell in love with her daughter immediately, but was trapped in the same situation as her own parents. How was she supposed to feed her baby?

Her siblings had left to search for work in the cities but that was no guaranteed thing. Farming was out, she had seen the results of relying on the land. She had no skills except sewing, knitting and street-fighting. Luckily for her, war was brewing. She signed up the Oceania Expeditionary Force and Victoria the Slasher abandoned her dusty and tattered pants and shirt for the blue uniform and slouch hat of Private White. She entered boot camp and quickly became friends with the young men and woman she would spend her service fighting alongside.

Until the armored car killed all of them of course. She was the only survivor, everyone else was cut in half by machine gun fire or smashed under the wheels. Victoria managed to escape with only a few new scars and the need to find a new unit to attach herself to. Now all she has to do is survive the war so she can keep sending money home to care for her daughter and then track down the worthless son-of-a-bitch who ran out on his own child.

Affiliations
Jack White (Father, 47)
Margret White (Mother, 41)
Liz Dawson (Grandmother, 61)
Elizabeth White (Daughter, 2)
John, Edward, and Mary White (Siblings, all 28)
Charles Blake (Worthless Bastard, 22)

Relationships
None yet

S-Squad: Anti-Superhuman Operations

Interest Tag