Smike

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Oh joy, trench clearing duty. The shitty job that the piece-of-shit-Captain assigned to those stupid, disposable or psychotic enough to be good at it. Victoria wasn't surprised that this sort of work fell on her shoulders, she had done her best to prove herself as overburdened with those qualities and with her having found those battleplans, well...someone must have taken note of her dutiful can-do attitude. Wow, she was so proud she could just fucking puke.

The Oceanic was passing the time before the raid with art, scribbling on the torn off piece of paper that had been her focus for the past little bit. An amorphous blob of a blanket with an unshaven face peering out, a stupid little helmet perched atop and a few motion lines to denote shivering and she had a fairly accurate picture of Jean the Coward. In the interest of fairness she matched it with a caricature of herself, all sharp teeth and crazy eyes with gnarled claws for fingers. Victoria the Mad Rat and Jean the Frightened Mouse, a comedy duo worthy of vaudeville.

The Midget spoke and reminded her that she was among other poor bastards, Victoria setting down her well-chewed pencil to begin going through her kit. "Carbine, pistol, knife, shovel..." She laid them out one by one on the table, well-worn instruments ready and waiting to be put to use. "My armor and ammo obviously and something I like to cook up myself."

She finished the rest of her bottle in one quick gulp, cheap wine that she had been nursing the past two days. Out from her pack came the greasy jam tin filled with lamp oil and turpentine, the mixture freehand poured into the bottle with nary a drop spilled. Soap was next, a greyish lump produced from a pocket and shaved until a small pile of slivers formed.

"Burns 'em right out."

Was she looking forward to seeing it in action as much as her manic grin would suggest? No. Yes. Maybe? It was hard to tell how much of her thirst for violence was acting and how much was genuine, her mind cracking in too many places to keep track. Just keep playing the gangster turned soldier, the woman who belonged on the battlefield and hope no one called her out as the frightened child she was, that was her mission.



In an example of the infinite wisdom bestowed upon the upper echelons someone had assigned a sniper to a trench raid in the evening. Alex was a good shot, a damn good shot, but even he would be limited by both dusk and the constraints of space. Trying to take potshots from across No Man's Land with the sun down would result in friendly fire as often it did an enemy killed and it wasn't like his scoped rifle was designed with close-quarters combat in mind.

So what did that leave him with? The Turner-Cable, a gift from his father that had been more symbolic than anything. His saber, a straight pattern made for stabbing and so infinitely more useful in tight trenches than the Europan models that necessitated wide swings. And Valkur, a hulking brute with sharp teeth and hatred for mankind restrained by nothing more than Alex's force of will. Absolute barbarism personified in the form of three items, the industrial scale slaughter of the conflict embodied by beast, blade and bullet.

"Valkur can handle whatever the Imps can throw at him, I'm just going to follow behind and put the stragglers out of their misery." He smiled at his own bravado, amusing himself at the thought of the enemy fleeing for the hills chased by his monstrous hound. "But seriously, usually I'd be providing you overwatch but I doubt that's feasible under the circumstances."

He could feel his grin becoming bitter, the consummate professional allowing himself the slightest curl of his lip before removing the expression entirely like a good little tin soldier. "We'll make it work." It was his duty to be an example for his juniors, no bellyaching could be heard coming out of his mouth. "The raid itself doesn't worry me too much, the real trouble's going to be getting back to our lines with a couple prisoners in tow."

Alex's only show of nervousness was lighting up a cigar, sweetly addictive smoke sucked into his lungs like some kind of improper savage. Little violations of decorum like that were how he stayed sane, the weight of the smoke brought deep into his body where it would hopefully be absorbed faster.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

From the moment she had kicked the door open Ekaterine had her shotgun trained on that abominable "Ryan" character, ready and waiting for the moment she could unload on the sly bastard. Her comrades from the other churches were soft, willing to give quarter when nothing but prompt destruction should have been offered. While it was true that there was goodness in offering tolerance to a foe in hopes that they surrendered intolerance was often the required trait. She had offered no quarter during her careers as a soldier of both God and the Red Army because her enemies had never deserved any.

But in the interest of preserving her relationship with her softer coworkers Ekaterine had restrained herself. She listened and scowled as the snake simpered and acted the part of the charmer, watched her brothers waste their breath on the scum in an effort everyone there knew would be futile. All the way that damned armor kept playing, profaning a fine instrument with its twisted touch.

Then a third party had burst in, a stranger babbling in Russian who had presumably been the one firing shots. He had come alone? An idiot then, soft in the skull and in need of a babysitter. "Yes he is." Her frown only deepened as she regarded the idiot in the cassock. Another Catholic, perhaps drunk on sacrificial wine. "Вы придурок! Ты пытаешься быть убитым?" There was little time for her fire off any other sort of rebuke, Ryan simply dematerializing before more of the Devil's minions rushed in.

The time for parley had ended, now was the moment of decisive action. As the Satanists charged Ekaterine simply howled, channeling all her fury into a scream that could match anything produced by man or demon. The sound was harsh, hateful, as hard on her throat as it was on the enemy's ears and as Satan's whores got closer to her with their overwrought gardening implements it died down into unhinged laughter.

They wore armor and so thought that they had an advantage but were sorely disappointed, the first hook slicing through her robe but bouncing harmlessly off the steel breastplate she wore underneath. Stepping back to avoid the second blow the Stravaphore raised her weapon and fired in one fluid motion, an explosion of holy powder blasting the fool who had swung for her chest.

He was injured but not out, the physical protection provide by his infernal armor not enough to defend him from the Lord's hate that the pellets had been imbued with. Ekaterine racked the pump and fired again, burning a hole through her victim before getting interrupted by yet another cultist. That attack too did little, the impact unpleasant in the extreme but causing her nothing more than bruises.

Defended by her faith she was free to press the advantage, swinging her weapon around to stab right through a chink in the billhook wielder's armor, his cry of pain drowned out by her triumphant shriek.

"Kill them slowly my brothers! Let them suffer on Earth before being kicked back to their master!"

Yu's incense was intoxicating, its smell as empowering to her as it was sickening to the enemy. It cloud all thoughts except those of violence, removed any words from her vocabulary except maim, smite and kill. Putting all her weight into the butt of her shotgun Ekaterine drove the Satanist into the ground, his dying gurgles much more beautiful to her ears than the concerto that had been playing earlier.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

The fight ended as abruptly as it began, the devils shredded by lead and mulched under car tires as they deserved. The sights, the sounds the sheer rush of adrenaline always lifted Ekaterine's spirits and this time was no different. She hummed to her herself as the car pulled up to the Castillian mansion, fingers working shells into her shotgun to replace the ones she had spent. Three blasts fired meant that she had fifty-seven more to go. Would it be enough to see her through this next test? Perhaps it would and perhaps it wouldn't. There were still her pistol, bottles and boots after that, each a more than serviceable weapon against Hell's legions.

Father Alistair returned the Abbess's Makarov and Ekaterine took it with a smile, nodding as he complimented the weapon. "You used it well. It might be worth looking into acquiring a firearm of your own, I'm sure the Holy See has something it's arsenal." There was no way the Papal Guards still only used halberds right?

The plan was simple enough, no different from the house-to-house fighting she had taken part in during the battle for Stalingrad. Go in, shoot every last monster they found and then leave to lick their wounds and let someone else handle the cleanup. The CIA spooks and FBI men in black were cold-hearted imperialists but at least they had the budget for burn crews.

It felt to the Mother to deal with the door and she did in her usual no nonsense way. Alien geometry and intricate ivory carvings meant little when one could simply kick it in. The interior of the structure was almost baffling in its ostentatiousness, thick rugs and ornate furniture that would have been unthinkable to a girl growing up on a Georgian farm. There had been some truth then to the Soviet's propaganda if Americans could live fill their homes with so much useless stuff while their countrymen starved.

The song being played had a name but whatever it was passed through one ear and out the other. It was information totally superfluous to the work at the hand. They were at the door to the dining room and whoever or whatever was inside it needed to die. Ekaterine took her shotgun in hand and kicked in yet another door.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

The sound of demons was perhaps unexpected but it certainly wasn't unwelcome. If the devils were already seeking to throw themselves in the path of God's executioners then she would not begrudge the chance to die violently. As hellish shrieks howled out in the night Ekaterine answered with one of her own, a fury filled roar that made her sound more beast than woman. This was not the time for love nor mercy, she would embody only the virtue of hateful justice.

"Now is the time for action my brothers! Now is the time to unleash the Lord's wrath! Drive them into the ground so that their rotten entrails maybe swallowed by the earth!" The zeal in her soul and fire in her belly was evident for all to see, the usually serene look she wore replaced by a feral grin. This was what she was good at! This was her calling! This was righteous.

As the driver shot one rider and Alistair grappled with another Ekaterine pumped her shotgun and kicked the passenger door open to deal with the creatures attempting to ram them off the road. The first blast split one of their heads into foul chunks, splattering the road with its lifeforce as it flopped over like a bag of wet cement. The second hit the other "centaur" square in the chest, the holy load burning a hole through its blackened heart and out through its back.

A good first effort but the fight was not over yet. The crunch of metal above meant that one of the creatures had made its way up top while the crack of bone warned her that the driver was in danger. As any compassionate soul would do she prioritized the human over the car, racking her 12 gauge and firing behind the headrest. The spray of blessed buckshot tore off the demon's arm at the elbow before ripping into cursed tendons and muscle. Whatever twisted organs it had in the "human" part of its torso had been reduced to smoking shreds, the pounding of its hooves become erratic as it bled to death standing up.

"Back to Lucifer! Dabrundit tkvens dats’q’evlil sameposhi!"

The slip into her mother tongue was a natural part of the hate Ekaterine felt flowing through her, the higher level functions needed for speaking English temporarily superseded by the duty to slaughter. They hadn't even made it to their destination and already she had three kills to her name? Such a productive hunt made her spirit sing with mad joy.

The request for a firearm shook her out of total mindlessness however, the Mother dropping her shotgun to pull something out of her bag.
"Here Father, eight rounds. Make them count and please be careful with it. It holds a special value to me."

She held extended the Makarov butt first, trusting Alistair to do what was needed with it.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Mother Ekaterine

Ordinis Sancti Exorcistarum Christi

Ordinatus Capitulum Exorcistae de New Mexico

	NAME: Stavrophore Ekaterine ______________ AGE: 45 ______________ DATE OF BIRTH: January 10, 1925 ______________ FAITH: Eastern Orthodox ______________ NATIONALITY: Soviet, from the Georgian SSR ______________

PERSONALITY
^{______________}
A veteran of the war against the Nazis as well as the one against devils Ekaterine is well-versed in battling sin. Her days in the Red Army instilled a total lack of fear that bordered on irrational recklessness that was later tempered by her time fighting demons across the Soviet Union and United States. In her mind there is neither room for hesitation nor impatience, she takes in the situation and makes the call before sticking through it until the end. The Lord's work is a calling of the utmost importance and any time wasted on overreactions or inactions is an affront to His name.

Her devotion to Heaven is what keeps Ekaterine going after a life of loss and betrayal. Made bitter by the early loss of her parents and the harsh treatment she received from her aunt and uncle the senseless violence she witnessed in the Great Patriotic War nearly broke her, left a wandering wreck who quiet literally stumbled into monastery life. Even now after being forced to flee to the U.S during the anti-religious purges of the 60s Mother Ekaterine's faith is what keeps her from spiraling into a dark place. She sees her work hunting the Serpent's minions as her way of giving back to the Lord for saving her life.

Just as she takes pride (in a sense anyway) in her duties mentoring the younger sisters or feeding the poor so to does she feel good during the hunt. While a lust for the blood of man would certainly be cause for troubled self-reflection she sees no fault in enjoying herself when driving the demons out of the kingdoms of man. Prone to making promises of great violence against her enemy in Russian, Georgian and English Ekaterine does her best to make good on each and every one of them.

Height
^{______________}
6’3”

EQUIPMENT
^{______________}
-Ithaca 37: Five shells of twelve gauge absolution, a venerable weapon that serves a blessed purpose. Mother Ekaterine's trench gun and attached bayonet were custom made and consecrated for the purpose of demon hunting.
-Stechkin APS:A personal weapon smuggled over during her flight from the USSR. Most people would be unable to handle the recoil from this blessed machine pistol without its optional stock but Ekaterine's strength of belief (as well as well strength of body) gives her the discipline required to wield it.
-Holy Oils: A bit of the Oil of Catechumens used in baptisms, some soap and good old gasoline mixed together in glass bottles to be lit and thrown. The result is a blessed blaze that sticks to demons and melts them where they stand. When asked about the propriety of such a weapon the Stavrophore holds that if the Father above took issue then he would surely show her a better way.
-SN-46 "Steel Bib":When Satan told the Lord Christ to throw himself from the top of the temple Christ rebuked him by saying "Again it is written, 'You shall not put the Lord, your God to the test.'" Likewise Ekaterine relies on not just faith but solid steel worn under her cassock to guard her body from the enemy. Soviet machine work was combined with Christian blessings to forge armor that can withstand bullets, blades and blood magic. Up to a point anyway.
-Duty Bag:A veshmeshok filled with everything a demon hunter on the go might need. A copy of the Scripture, icons of Christ and the Virgin Mary, a change of clothes, money, and snacks as well as spare ammo, oils, salts, consecrated iron filings and a Makarov pistol that once belonged to her abbess back in the Soviet Union.

CAPACITY
^{______________}

Already a trained soldier before entering the Church's demon hunters Eketerine is a skilled gunslinger, fitting considering that she works in the land of the gangster and cowboy. She excels at meeting the enemy in close quarters and blasting them back to Hell with her shotgun and pistol or simply spilling their infernal guts with a twist of her bayonet. Her work as a farmhand set the ground for building a great physical strength that, while hidden by nun's outfit, enables her to sprint with her gear and crush the skulls of the damned beneath her boots.

Her spiritual strength on the other hand is what keeps her going. No matter how bad things get, no matter how much misery and sin she has to wallow through, she just keeps going. After going through the killing fields of the Eurasian steppes without God's light, how can she allow herself to break against the mere denizens of Hell with Him guiding her aim?

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Mother Ekaterine

Ordinis Sancti Exorcistarum Christi

Ordinatus Capitulum Exorcistae de New Mexico

	NAME: Stavrophore Ekaterine ______________ AGE: 45 ______________ DATE OF BIRTH: January 10, 1925 ______________ FAITH: Eastern Orthodox ______________ NATIONALITY: Soviet, from the Georgian SSR ______________

PERSONALITY
^{______________}
A veteran of the war against the Nazis as well as the one against devils Ekaterine is well-versed in battling sin. Her days in the Red Army instilled a total lack of fear that bordered on irrational recklessness that was later tempered by her time fighting demons across the Soviet Union and United States. In her mind there is neither room for hesitation nor impatience, she takes in the situation and makes the call before sticking through it until the end. The Lord's work is a calling of the utmost importance and any time wasted on overreactions or inactions is an affront to His name.

Her devotion to Heaven is what keeps Ekaterine going after a life of loss and betrayal. Made bitter by the early loss of her parents and the harsh treatment she received from her aunt and uncle the senseless violence she witnessed in the Great Patriotic War nearly broke her, left a wandering wreck who quiet literally stumbled into monastery life. Even now after being forced to flee to the U.S during the anti-religious purges of the 60s Mother Ekaterine's faith is what keeps her from spiraling into a dark place. She sees her work hunting the Serpent's minions as her way of giving back to the Lord for saving her life.

Just as she takes pride (in a sense anyway) in her duties mentoring the younger sisters or feeding the poor so to does she feel good during the hunt. While a lust for the blood of man would certainly be cause for troubled self-reflection she sees no fault in enjoying herself when driving the demons out of the kingdoms of man. Prone to making promises of great violence against her enemy in Russian, Georgian and English Ekaterine does her best to make good on each and every one of them.

EQUIPMENT
^{______________}
-Ithaca 37: Five shells of twelve gauge absolution, an venerable weapon that serves a blessed purpose. Mother Ekaterine's trench gun and attached bayonet were custom made and consecrated for the purpose of demon hunting.
-Stechkin APS:A personal weapons smuggled over during her flight from the USSR. Most people would be unable to handle the recoil from this blessed machine pistol without its optional stock but Ekaterine's strength of belief (as well as well strength of body) gives her the discipline required to wield it.
-Holy Oils: A bit of the Oil of Catechumens used in baptisms, some soap and good old gasoline mixed together in glass bottles to be lit and thrown. The result is a blessed blaze that sticks to demons and melts them where they stand. When asked about the propriety of such a weapon the Stavrophore holds that if the Father above took issue then he would surely show her a better way.
-SN-46 "Steel Bib":When Satan told the Lord Christ to throw himself from the top of the temple Christ rebuked him by saying "Again it is written, 'You shall not put the Lord, your God to the test.'" Likewise Ekaterine relies on not just faith but solid steel worn under her cassock to guard her body from the enemy. Soviet machine work was combined with Christian blessings to forge armor that can withstand bullets, blades and blood magic. Up to a point anyway.
-Duty Bag:A veshmeshok filled with everything a demon hunter on the go might need. A copy of the Scripture, icons of Christ and the Virgin Mary, a change of clothes, money, and snacks as well as spare ammo, oils, salts, consecrated iron filings and a Makarov pistol that once belonged to her abbess back in the Soviet Union.

CAPACITY
^{______________}

Already a trained soldier before entering the Church's demon hunters Eketerine is a skilled gunslinger, fitting considering that she works in the land of the gangster and cowboy. She excels at meeting the enemy in close quarters and blasting them back to Hell with her shotgun and pistol or simply spilling their infernal guts with a twist of her bayonet. Her work as a farmhand set the ground for building a great physical strength that, while hidden by nun's outfit, enables her to sprint with her gear and crush the skulls of the damned beneath her boots.

Her spiritual strength on the other hand is what keeps her going. No matter how bad things get, no matter how much misery and sin she has to wallow through, she just keeps going. After going through the killing fields of the Eurasian steppes without God's light, how can she allow herself to break against the mere denizens of Hell with Him guiding her aim?

Smike's Sheets

Mother Ekaterine

Ordinis Sancti Exorcistarum Christi

Ordinatus Capitulum Exorcistae de New Mexico

	NAME: Stavrophore Ekaterine ______________ AGE: 45 ______________ DATE OF BIRTH: January 10, 1925 ______________ FAITH: Eastern Orthodox ______________ NATIONALITY: Soviet, from the Georgian SSR ______________

PERSONALITY
^{______________}
A veteran of the war against the Nazis as well as the one against devils Ekaterine is well-versed in battling sin. Her days in the Red Army instilled a total lack of fear that bordered on irrational recklessness that was later tempered by her time fighting demons across the Soviet Union and United States. In her mind there is neither room for hesitation nor impatience, she takes in the situation and makes the call before sticking through it until the end. The Lord's work is a calling of the utmost importance and any time wasted on overreactions or inactions is an affront to His name.

Her devotion to Heaven is what keeps Ekaterine going after a life of loss and betrayal. Made bitter by the early loss of her parents and the harsh treatment she received from her aunt and uncle the senseless violence she witnessed in the Great Patriotic War nearly broke her, left a wandering wreck who quiet literally stumbled into monastery life. Even now after being forced to flee to the U.S during the anti-religious purges of the 60s Mother Ekaterine's faith is what keeps her from spiraling into a dark place. She sees her work hunting the Serpent's minions as her way of giving back to the Lord for saving her life.

Just as she takes pride (in a sense anyway) in her duties mentoring the younger sisters or feeding the poor so to does she feel good during the hunt. While a lust for the blood of man would certainly be cause for troubled self-reflection she sees no fault in enjoying herself when driving the demons out of the kingdoms of man. Prone to making promises of great violence against her enemy in Russian, Georgian and English Ekaterine does her best to make good on each and every one of them.

EQUIPMENT
^{______________}
-Ithaca 37: Five shells of twelve gauge absolution, an venerable weapon that serves a blessed purpose. Mother Ekaterine's trench gun and attached bayonet were custom made and consecrated for the purpose of demon hunting.
-Stechkin APS:A personal weapons smuggled over during her flight from the USSR. Most people would be unable to handle the recoil from this blessed machine pistol without its optional stock but Ekaterine's strength of belief (as well as well strength of body) gives her the discipline required to wield it.
-Holy Oils: A bit of the Oil of Catechumens used in baptisms, some soap and good old gasoline mixed together in glass bottles to be lit and thrown. The result is a blessed blaze that sticks to demons and melts them where they stand. When asked about the propriety of such a weapon the Stavrophore holds that if the Father above took issue then he would surely show her a better way.
-SN-46 "Steel Bib":When Satan told the Lord Christ to throw himself from the top of the temple Christ rebuked him by saying "Again it is written, 'You shall not put the Lord, your God to the test.'" Likewise Ekaterine relies on not just faith but solid steel worn under her cassock to guard her body from the enemy. Soviet machine work was combined with Christian blessings to forge armor that can withstand bullets, blades and blood magic. Up to a point anyway.
-Duty Bag:A veshmeshok filled with everything a demon hunter on the go might need. A copy of the Scripture, icons of Christ and the Virgin Mary, a change of clothes, money, and snacks as well as spare ammo, oils, salts, consecrated iron filings and a Makarov pistol that once belonged to her abbess back in the Soviet Union.

CAPACITY
^{______________}

Already a trained soldier before entering the Church's demon hunters Eketerine is a skilled gunslinger, fitting considering that she works in the land of the gangster and cowboy. She excels at meeting the enemy in close quarters and blasting them back to Hell with her shotgun and pistol or simply spilling their infernal guts with a twist of her bayonet. Her work as a farmhand set the ground for building a great physical strength that, while hidden by nun's outfit, enables her to sprint with her gear and crush the skulls of the damned beneath her boots.

Her spiritual strength on the other hand is what keeps her going. No matter how bad things get, no matter how much misery and sin she has to wallow through, she just keeps going. After going through the killing fields of the Eurasian steppes without God's light, how can she allow herself to break against the mere denizens of Hell with Him guiding her aim?

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Will work on an app later

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

"I get that a lot."

She was tall to everyone. Taller than her parents, taller than her siblings and her friends back home and the cunt whose kid she had and all the soldiers in the trenches. Yes Victoria White was fucking tall, a freak of nature not suited to trench warfare so could everyone stop bringing it up all the time? Slouching constantly was bad enough, being reminded of how she looked down on everyone was just unnecessary. It wasn't like she was harping on Cienie's apparent inability to speak the language shared by everyone in B Company.

"Victoria but yes, that's me." She had long ago accepted the fact that people were going to use the diminutive form of her name, making the correction more out for appearance's sake than any belief that the habit would change. "Yeah yeah I know, I'm almost done."

Medical tent of course, the one place she couldn't smoke. But it was too late to back out now. The Oceanic took one last puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out on her belt. If she couldn't finish it now she could at least tuck it behind an ear to relight later. She followed her musical companion and waited awkwardly behind him, regretting the decisions that led her to this point.

You could have just gone back to the trenches but nooooo...

Cienie stuck his head in to bother the nurses while Victoria did her best to not look totally disheveled, managing to at least straighten her cape before Senja started speaking. "Don't dump all your blessings on me, save 'em for someone less lucky." Her smile was cocksure so as to present an aura of supposed untouchability, the same wolfishly arrogant expression she had worn when dealing with rival gangs.

Now just as then her demeanor was composed entirely of bullshit save for the disregard for blessings. There was no room in Victoria's mind for religious dogma or superstitious symbolism. Senja's stick worshipping gimmick was a crux (ha) that was simply incomprehensible for someone as mired in worldly sin as Vicky. But that was. Senja was pleasant enough of a person that her heavenly obsession was more quirky and less disturbing.

A tip of the hat and a chipper "Thanks!" was exchanged for the chair as Victoria took her place among the captive (thanks to injury) audience. "You guys are in for a show let me tell you." Poor bastards. If she had enough to share Vicky probably would have passed around her flask as an apology for the upcoming clatter.



The Isaac Store was one of those things that was definitely not allowed but was simultaneously not worth bothering. Pretty much everyone knew about the little shop and Alex felt no need to break up the fledgling business. As long as Isaac wasn't dealing in narcotics or figuring out a scheme to run men out to see the local whores then no harm no foul. This poker game was just another part of the enlisted man's fight against boredom and as an enlisted man himself Alex was grateful for a break in monotony.

"Thanks Black."

To his knowledge he and the lance corporal had never met before but that didn't stop Alex from using his name nor did it dissuade him taking a seat at the table. Valkur settled his bulk down behind his master so that he could stare intently at the other canine, beady-eyed monster immediately distrustful but not doing anything to provoke the wolf-dog. "Yep. Valkur fell into my hands when his old owner couldn't handle him."

Shell-shock had ruined that medic's nerves until he was unable to cope with such a massive beast. A man laid low by his own dog, it had been embarrassing to witness.

"He's certainly less regal looking than your wolf but you can't go wrong with a dumb lump of muscle." A firm hand kept Valkur in check enough that he made a good load-bearer and that was all that Alex asked from the animal.

"What's the ante right now?"

@FalloutJack @CFProxy @samakama

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Alex Schäfer

---

---

Name
Alex Schäfer

Gender
Male

Age
23, July 14th, 1891

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Race
A Darcsen out of New Bedford, Vinland

Height
5'8"

---

Appearance
Alex is fighting a losing battle against the trenches to preserve his appearance. Understanding that he will never be able to achieve parade conditions while at the front he settles for simply doing the best that he can under the circumstances. Instead of keeping his buttons and belt buckle shining and thus making himself a target he just tries to keep them mostly free of rust. Similarly his boots and uniform can never truly be free of stains, just kept from losing all of their original color. The only thing he doesn't compromise in his bearing. He carries himself with his back straight and his face devoid of doubt or fear no matter his true feelings on the situation.

The one nonstandard addition to his dress is the shawl he wears wrapped around his shoulders, the Darcsen pattern visible for all to see along with the color of his hair.

Personality
War is an adventure, the chance for a young man to experience fear and summon bravery not often seen in civilian life. To Alex the outbreak of this Europan conflict is the greatest opportunity he's been given. As a gentleman and a soldier his first priority is presenting himself properly, keeping cool and collected under fire so as to set a good example for his subordinates. As such he refuses to treat combat as anything other than exhilarating sport, taking in the exercise with a determined smile. The only downside to the war in his mind is that instead of serving as a cavalryman as intended he's been relegated to shooting at faraway targets that will never see him coming. This chivalrous (or perhaps simply foolhardy) outlook should not be mistaken for carelessness nor his disdain for sniping as an urge to shirk his duties. Alex is devoted to doing his part to win the war, seeing the Imperial's aggressions against Gallia as a slight that cannot go unanswered.

Alex sees his heritage as something to be proud of but not particularly relevant to his day to day life.. He's happy to talk about himself or Darcsen culture if asked and quick to defend it when slighted.

---

Rank
Sergeant

Role
Marksman

Equipment
M1912 Fielder, Marksmen Variant: The standard Fielder equipped with a x9 scope and the option to fit a suppressor.
Turner-Cable Pistol:A gift from Alex's father.
Model 1909 Saber: The sword Alex used during his days as a cavalryman. Made almost entirely obsolete by his role but kept around out of sentimentality and the occasional enemy trench raid.
Fielder Bayonet: For cutting things that need to be cut.
Valkur: A former mercy dog although it would be impossible to tell from his temperament. Used to carry ammo, run messages and shred Imperials that get to close to his master Alex choose the name out of a sardonic wish to harness the savagery that decimated his people.
Dog Biscuits: Carried purely for Valkur's benefit.
Cigars: For Alex's benefit.

Potentials
Kim's Game: An excellent memory and an eye for detail makes Alex as good a scout as he is a spotter. A pastime of his is looking through his scope to try and figure out what those damned Imperials are doing over on their side of the battlefield.

Revenge of the Old Ways: A former cavalryman who blames the advancement of military science for the decline of his beloved service, Alex takes out his anger upon those who roles illustrate the changing times best. Enemy sappers, snipers and gunners tend to be put in his sights before the average rifleman.

Blue-Blooded: Fluent in the Imperial language as well as possessing a solid grounding in a number of studies and coming from a respectable family line, Alex sees himself as a gentleman before a soldier. He treats subordinates and superiors with respect and expects the same to be given to him, as befitting someone of his standing.

Proud Darcsen: There's very few Darcsens in Vinland, the vast majority of them gathered in a few enclaves on the east coast. This low visibility means that there's little in the way of de jure or de facto discrimination against them due to the fact that they're rarely in the public mind. Growing up privileged without experiencing what his Europan brethren go through means that Alex reacts badly to perceived slights against his heritage. Officers can get away with it as a matter of rank but the enlisted man cannot.

High Velocity: Being accurate is one thing, being quick is another. Alex is a mix of both, sighting targets and putting shots downrange in mere moments before moving onto the next with workmanlike efficiency.

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Biography
The Schäfers had first fled the Empire then all of Europa in an attempt to escape the entrenched anti-Darcsen attitudes, finding a home in Vinland where the low amount of so-called "dark hairs" meant that there was little in the way of purges or organized discrimination. It was a place they could start fresh, build themselves up without fear of being torn down. The Schäfer clan spread out, going into business and making a place for themselves in Vinland's burgeoning society.

Three hundred or so years later the family was almost totally removed from its fearful origins, them and the other Darcsen enclaves seen more as curiosities than real threats. Alex was born into this separation from the past, the scion of a successful banking clan born in a nursery that looked out onto the family estate.

His childhood was similar to that of any blueblood: wanting for nothing but freedom. Despite there being no risk of his being attacked for his heritage Alex was still the son of a family fearful of kidnapping due to their wealth and status His free time between studies and exercise was spent walking around the family manor with a hunting dog or listening to the stories told by older relatives, activities that could be monitored by any number of chaperones and servants whose job it was to keep the boy out of trouble.The closest thing he had to an escape was when he was allowed to go out riding or hunting, the boy showing an aptitude for equestrianism and marksmanship that would remain with him throughout his life. But even those trips were supervised, the woodsmen the family kept on payroll always close by.

As was common for children of his class Alex was sent to boarding school, spending years twelve to seventeen continuing his education while coming home every summer. The months spent away only increased the distance between himself and his family, the Schäfers slowly being replaced by Darcsen culture as a whole as his support net. His patterned scarfs and strangely colored hair marked him out as a person of interest to his peers, classmates who had never met a Darcsen poking and prodding for information. In a school full of upper class inheritors and future politicians Alex had something that made him stand out from the bunch.

Graduating from boarding school at seventeen, Alex really only had two options available to him. HIs branch of the Schäfer family had all been officers, business leaders or both and the weight of generations worth of peer pressure was simply too much for him to bear. Over the course of his first year out he engaged in a whirlwind courtship with a woman named Eliza (organized more by their parents out of practical reasons than they had for love) and prepared himself for military life.

Now married and eighteen years old Alex joined Vinland’s cavalry, the old riding lessons being updated for use on the battlefield. The military gave Alex another identity to hold onto, the young soldier taking pride in his service. The tradition of cavalry stretched back into ancient history, a long and storied lineage that he immersed himself in. The sense of camaraderie and honor he experienced in his regiment was effectively another replacement for the companionship he lacked as a boy.

As he worked his way through the enlisted ranks Alex’s relationship with his family got stronger, his parents seeing his eagerness to serve as indicative of their good parenting. He might not have been destined for a career in finance or trade but he would at least honor his country. His marriage suffered, already somewhat strained and made worse by his absence. He and Eliza had originally felt some sort of affection for each other despite their union having been set up outside of their control but as they saw less and less of each other it devolved into a more or less cordial facade.

Their affairs were open secrets, each knowing about the other’s but not bothering to bring it up. In fact, Alex was rather pleased that Eliza found someone she could actually enjoy her time with because it made his decision to accept a drastic shift in career that much easier.

Given the opportunity to serve as an attache to Gallia’s 4th Lancers Regiment and an increase in rank to match Alex packed his bags and made his way over to Europa, seeing it as a chance to see new sights if nothing else. Upon arrival he learned that he had been transferred into the ‘Chevaliers d’Arlem’ to serve as their platoon sergeant by the request of the lieutenant himself.

Perhaps due in part to the similarity of their names Alex took a liking to the younger Alexandre. The officer asked him to share information about his culture with the men and he did so gladly, taking to the impromptu anthropological lectures just like he had back in school. His commanding officer might have been inexperienced but Alex remained steadfast, gladly riding out with the rest of the Chevaliers when the Imperial Alliance invaded.

He was optimistic about the first engagement even as they prepared for battle. The plan was solid, backed by training and sheer force of will. The thundering of hooves would drive the Imperials away from the river and shred their lines, an unstoppable stampede crushing all under foot.

But it was not to be. de Bihain’s beloved Chevaliers pushed past rifle fire and static defences with all the bravery of the knights of old, crashing through the Imperial lines as their numbers were thinned. Schäfer pushed his charger to its limits, taking control of the platoon when his commander broke away without hesitation and leading the troops by example until Alexandre returned. When Alexandre led them through the woods he did not waver, not until the machine guns tore the unit to shreds.

Centuries of pride and strategy, undone in moments. When the lieutenant was seemingly cut down it was left to Alex to rally the survivors, marshaling a retreat even as more of their number were shot to death. The few bloodied figures who came riding back from the battle were no longer Lancers, their unit dissolved and the men and women who had made it great scattered to the wind.

Alex reported for retraining and was made a sniper much to his chagrin, his knack for shooting meaning that he was given a scoped rifle and told to aim true. This new role was indicative of the honorlessness that characterized the modern battlefield, his role as the executioner of unsuspecting enemies anathema to his sense of ethics. But refusal or desertion was unthinkable. He committed himself to being the marksman he could be for the sake of Gallia and its murdered hero, a sort of thanks to Alexandre for giving him a place to belong. He stood with the little unicorn nation until the ravages of war required he be reassigned to the 15th Atlantic Rifles.

But Alexandre had survived somehow, appearing in Alex’s unit one day as if he were a ghost returned to haunt the living.

Affiliations
John Schäfer - Father
Grace Schäfer - Mother
Eliza Schäfer-Wife
Valkur - Dog, messenger, pack animal

Relationships

Alexandre Martial Alphonse de Bihainr
Alex’s old commander and the one most responsible for the destruction of their shared unit. Alex held and still holds a great deal of respect for the younger man but their relationship has been made complicated by the nature of their last moments together.