I've just finished reading OP and I want to say you've done an amazing job at capturing my interest! I would also like to join, if there are spots available.
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The Wildcard
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- Sync 11 yrs ago
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Bio
Yo! I'm a fairly simply guy who's in here due to my love of writing. I've never got into the swing of things on these forums due to other stuff, hence the massive difference from the time I joined to the number of posts I've made. I'm a big geek when it comes to all things anime, fiction and games. I can roleplay just about anything as long as it doesn't involve me using an actual person's picture. I usually lean on the anime style of RP's, but recently I've been branching out for the sake of gaining perspective. I don't inherently dislike any character tropes, I believe if the execution is right and the direction is clear then something of value can come out of that. I might be online in theory, but that might just be me leaving the tab open. If you wanna talk just go ahead! I don't bite... much.
Most Recent Posts
@Sola Thanks! Already fixed the issues you mentioned. Keep me posted if anything else needs to be changed.
Are you perhaps still accepting? I'd love to submit a character if possible.
A certainty of conflict began to erupt on this youth's chest, once more he peered at his locket after dabbling with his rifle, remembering what is now just a delightful memory, before anything too sentimental drifted onto consciousness, they were ordered to stand and listen. The Lieutenant began to speak and now was perhaps the first time in the entirety of his journey that he had experienced cruelty. The first week of boot camp was hell, the days following it weren't at all pleasing either. All that training and adjusting was but mere fancy compared to what was said, ushered and spoke today. Murder not only on the enemy hands, but any source of insubordination was to be met with lethal force. Stone faced, Mikael listened intently and his mind drifted onto times of history where such gruesome behavior was displayed, times were all but all needed to be experienced. Mankind had too much blood of their own kin stained on their hands, and today was no other stamp into that history book. The shivers of men and woman alike began to quake onto existence, tears fell of the faces of some men, others stood without as much as a flinch. And Mikael was upon them, although he kept to his devices, he sensed it all. This atmosphere was one of despair and horror, the smell of blood and corpses, the stench of gunpowder and rain. All of this was a scenery of murder and desolate of any hope. All the weight began to now, befall him. He picked his helmet and secured it tightly. Relax... please relax, were the only words he talked to himself to steady his heartbeat. But like warning signs, bellowing an escape, the anxiety started to take over, but a determination and will fought it back. He placed up his hood, and pulled out his rifle.
The battle here would be difficult for a marksman like himself, the is not much distance between him and the enemy, so... got to get to the top of the mountain trail. Best that he stayed behind the group, he'd be a nuisance if he was any close, that way he can protect the rear. Steady movements before- Any thought that continue halted with the command to charge, a barrage of soldiers began to move, along with Mikael himself bodies were already piling up and the count of bodies gowning the trench had started to pile up, blood and water starting to mix and now indistinguishable from puddles. This was but a secular part of the frontlines, this is what Mikael expected, but truthfully he was ill prepared. The sight was horrid, but he needed to move, he needed to numb his senses and move. Any secular mistake could mean the lives of many more on the floor. Besides, if failure happened... he'd rather be dead anyway! He charged behind his teammates, the Lance Corporal was starting to let his inner demons take the best of him, a grit of his teeth. Why? Why was he there struggling? What did he expect? Was this all a joy ride for him, another began to move beyond the team's scope. Another one with the intent to work alone? What does he plan to do? Damn it. Another boy, short help there on his knee body on hand... Teeth began to clench, fist followed after.
Any form of organization was thrown out the window, war was messy, it was unfiltered and raw. Everything he thought and planned about was being thrown out the window and he needed to improvise. Bodies continued to pile up, heads were peering up the trench bullets was what all of them met. There was no time for anything, just needed to keep moving. The Lance Corporal was being motivated to move and so he didn't need to bother with the details of that anymore, if he died then it would only mean he was not prepared and all that hard work would end up in nothing. Think, there was Jean in a stupor acting as if it were the end of the world, which to some extent it was, there was a red-haired individual with the most inscrutable visage on his mien, he seemed to want to play the hero. Then there was another one, darker hair, seemed to be trying to help Jean on his feet, the other Lance Corporal was on that as well. Too many inconveniences, so then with this small amount of space, he pulled out his rifle and knife instead, and moved on ahead, beyond his squad mates. He was proficient enough in close-quarters, so if he met any enemies along the way he needed to use the narrow nature of these trenches to his favor. So he followed the red-haired private of his squad seemingly worried about what he was planning to do. But paving a way too was something he needed to do, and doing it alone would be foolish.
His eyes narrowed considerably noticing that his words left no trace and much more, were entirely ignored by his Lance Corporal. It seemed his conversation with the petite blond held more merit. Which was fine, Miakel thought. But still... Words on deaf ears they say, but much more, it felt no different if Mikael had spoken to the corpses themselves. At least if he did, he felt a sense of validation and purpose, because he would be motivated by sense of prowess and honor he himself befitted worthy. At this juncture, it felt like the winds carried his words and flew them away from his lips like a kite with a broken string. Mikael at the moment felt distant, far more distant that what he had been since the moment he decided to leave home. There were no companions and furthermore he seemed to be the only one who was taking anything with any amount of seriousness. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing, he knew this had to happen and was prepared for the inevitable. Well, it was a simple notion to be frank, they were comrades but they weren't friends. It didn't change the fact that he still needed to aid them in battle. And so, Mikael took it upon himself to not direct another words towards these people, and there when he used the term, these people, was where he noticed how cold his heart sank. But instead his focus was upon the surroundings. Everything was terrible, but it mattered naught what he had to be met with. This was important, again, just by slightly analyzing his situation he realized that the trek up to this point would be arduous. But then again, what did the youth expect? They were at right place of such, at the worst possible interval.
War felt terrible and Mikael had just started his campaign, he had not have to kill anything yet, he hadn't felt any sort of hunger or irreparable scarring's yet. But he could sense it inching ever closer and such brought his body to quiver. There were nothing he could do but be vigilant and prepared for it. And, as he felt once more like a fool for opening his mouth, he decided not to give it a third attempt and continue further to one of older operatives of the field. "Sir!" The moment a man, dark-skinned, towering a few inches above Mikael in height brandishing his combat knife in hand and rifle on shoulder, heard the voice of Mikael's call he gave him the at-ease command and both began to talk. There was a noticeable gash that marked the man from forehead to cheek, demonstrating the history of a battle well-fought and hard gained. "Huh? You're part of the 15th Atlantic Rifle, correct?"
Mikael nodded, leaving his salute behind and promptly responding to the man. "Indeed. Private Lauter, at your service. But saying such would feel too much of a commodity at the moment. Feels less like a squad and more like a group. " The man didn't seem to understand what Mikael was getting at, and so to shine such he brighten his confusion by demonstrating a reflection on the mien by a raise of the brow. Mikael caught the glance and he added "I feel like fish out of water." With such the scarred soldier nodded and threw it as petty squabbles of the new recruits. "Lauter, huh? That name sounds familiar. You have brother's in the force?" Mikael nodded and further explained the situation to the man, they went to and fro between conversation but finally reached the subject the young Private wanted to talk about. The situation, seems like most were about as knowledgeable about as much as he was, but there were substantial details that could benefit him further beyond. Looking upon the sky the clouds seems sparse and far in between, he couldn't smell beyond the stench of rotten flesh and gun power so he couldn't detect and form of odor that would make him believe it would rain again. Searching the surroundings once more, the mud and dirt seemed still in mush, deep too. Their feet would sink and become heavy upon placement. Meaning that there was a heavy shower constantly pounding at the earth. There seemed to be safe from any upcoming showers, at least for a moment.
This would be difficult, he needed to adapt to the floor to get a sturdy shot. Maybe he could use a vantage point somewhere with better footing, sadly that would also be troublesome as he would have to weave away from his squad. However, if moments dictate action he would do what must be done. At the moment, he didn't feel like doing something so foolish as disobeying so he strayed back to the squad and began to fiddle with his rifle. Trying to see if anything was out of the ordinary so he could adjust and repair as needed.
For the least there was some recognition. Mikael managed to attest that the Lance Corporal, the one with book and pen in hand had sought to his attention and acknowledge his presence. By extension of one of his comrades and the 1st Lieutenant, he had registered his name as Jean of last name Charpentier. A Darcsens name. There was some oddity to this fact, something which built at the epicenter of Private Lauter's core. It was strange enough to know Darcsens were here, but one with rank higher than his own? Mikael dismissed it as purely coincidental and something the Lance Corporal earned by extension of skill, prowess and discipline. A figure he should look up to, achieve to become as he is. There was subtlety to Lance Corporal Charpentier's features, a simple gesture was sufficient to ease the youth. This pleased the soldier within the youth, but glinting at the edge of his mind however was the teetering notion of colloquy with his fellow soldier's. He had arrived late by notions of his own, but perhaps there were few whom took notice. He hadn't picked up a single name outside that which were mentioned by the 1st Lieutenant, everyone else was a face and a weapon. Rifles most of them, none seem to vary. A sapper in the midst too, a shock trooper, and what seems to be an engineer. Riflemen and and toll-taker, frontliner's of the frontlines. This was heightened by Lance Corporal Black's machine gun. A weapon of choice to those who aren't afraid to take the bull by the horns. The other's followed suit, and although some did carry the standard SM-Lonfield, they didn't have equipped the far-scope he had. Deducing them to more of those task to challenge adversity head on.
Finally, faces... there were many. A bit too many to count and much less to identify. All herald unique features which bloomed into existence rather beautifully, but there wasn't much to carry over due to the fact that he has already wasted enough time making out what their roles were. Primarily, he should've simply asked and stated that as the topic of conversation. Utilizing that as the building block to bridge their companionship and form bonds, however he foolishly chose to silently ponder and analyze his squad like if they were displays at an art gallery. Alright, he soon rose himself to begin a conversation, huffing the oxygen which would echo his thoughts into veritable words before the 1st Lieutenant barged into the floor commanding the troop to begin mobilization within the next minute. Such force was now utilized to verbalize his Yes, Sir! response and make him wallow in the embarrassment that begun to color his cheeks.
Hands trailed to his hood, piecing together final article to hide himself. His hood took over his mien, placing it on his head as he began to prepare to what was to come upon the frontlines.
~*~
The frontlines were everything and nothing Mikael expected. Although there was certainly flora that bloomed at some juncture in this area, much of it was had died and withered over the scrambles of war. Gun power must've polluted throughout and damaged the remaining ounces of life this place demonstrated. The footing was difficult, their boot would bury under the weight and mush of the ground. Combination of water and withered soil which had yet to dry, rain hadn't stopped until recently it seemed and the trail had puddles of water darkened and deep. Usage of grenades and explosive, trails of mortars perhaps... The battle hadn't halted at all since even before they arrived here. treacherous was the footing, nothing here gave any premise of safety. The air was stagnant, and distant sounds of gunfire and screams were bellowing in the air. But the most poignant detail of them all was the smell, due to the weather's efforts to control what men had transpired upon its land, the smell permeated and ran across his senses. There was not always the time to retrieve the bodies which had fallen during the fight, and so if there were those who noted, the stench of blood and decomposing meat colored the field with its final hue. Anxiety was once more stationed at Mikael's chest, every visceral detail about this war drew him ever closer to the same conclusion... He was at war. Basic training was a playground compared to what he had experience now withing the terms of mere minutes of the field. But composure was not only a requirement, but a necessity.
He shifted his view to his comrades, and some were shaking in their boots, and other stood proudly to battle against the forces which they deliberately or not chose to combat against. Pulling his locket out, Mikael stared intricately unto the picture of his late mother, the smile she wore and what that meant to him. There were truths and decisions he needed to be responsible for. Regardless of his choices before, this was were all of that met their finality. He could sense it, everyone here is trying to forget, forget that they can die. And Mikael had this notion so presently, it weighed his feet, sunk his heart and weakened his grip to his rifle. Or so, such sense attempted to do so. He stood proudly with poise and determination. His eyes trailed to the mirror which stood at the other end of the locket. And he glanced back at his eyes, the heterochromia which poisoned his visage since birth, the dotted birthmark under his left eye. The look which was unshakable on his mien, the training which got him his position here at the army. Everything lead up to this point, and he knew peace with the turmoil. Purpose... something he needed to fight for, something stronger than himself.
But it shook on the pedestal which it stood. It teetered from side to side, so Mikael needed to, no... Private Lauter needed to keep it in check. A cog to his rifle, a polish of his combat knife, a quick sleigh of the hand to pull out his pistol. Half a second to the draw, easy grip and quick formation. Readiness was at its best, now it all came down to skill and vigilance. One of the Lance Corporal's was shivering ever harder than the rest, he needed to seat himself within his training. This could drastically dwindle the morale of the company. However, Lance Corporal Black immediately dismissed his worry and cheered them to movement.
Which Mikael confidently responded with a... nod. He was still a bit embarrassed after not being able to get a word out earlier. "...I'll do it. I'll be the best version of myself here. As long as this gun is in my hand I'll be sure to use it to defend this company of ours." This was both a pep-talk to his team, but also to himself. He needed more than any soldier in this division, although you wouldn't notice under the veil of his stern look and the intensity of those horrid mutation of eyes he has. "You can trust me in that, Lance Corporal Charpentier."
Interacting with: Paloma @Ambra, Michael @Conscripts, Jean @LetMeDoStuff, Isaac @FalloutJack, Jonnie @Rigmarole, Britta @Symphoni
To the youth, everything up until this point felt surreal. In fact, the very moment in which he stood felt as if it was slipping away from his grip. Like sand in between the cracks of your fingers. Mikael couldn't fathom entirely that it's been two month since his departure from home, a year since his mother's death and one long train ride 'till he reached the epicenter of the war: The front lines. Stories had flashed throughout his thoughts, shared by brothers and father about the war effort and their experience with it. Most were bathed, laced even with glee and momentous joy but truthfully Mikael could sense that the better part of the stories was that they were alive and at home, at least even if momentarily for the case of his brothers. That every story that had a silver-lining was in fact one that herald blood and sacrifice. Mikael was scared and hiding it was his pastime throughout the course of this long journey. His boots needed maintenance, so he would distract himself with that. Two month of training could be considered suicide to most civilians considering that most felt unprepared or nervous, some had breakdowns and other treated it like any old walk in the park. Mikael had always been vigilant and sturdy in his training. Finding out methods and tricks from men with much more experience and even himself for situational and general combat. Before long he found that his upbringing had prepared him enough to be station as a Marksman, issued with the SM-Longfield Mikael had the responsibility to defend allies from beyond the line of sight.
Before long he draped himself with hood to hide his appearance withing the soil and terrain and soon enough he had learn how to blend and become invisible to the naked eye. Until that unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate letter arrived detailing the responsibilities he needed to undertake after training had concluded. Throughout many of the time where the soldier found R&R and took time to send letter to their families, young Mikael sat at his lonesome polishing his boots and adjusting to his rifle. Time wasted were life wasted. Issued himself the task to learn combat even if he was someone who should stay in the shadows, awaiting for an opportunity like a thief in the night. Close Quarters Combat came naturally to him. He could feel himself trace every movement, feel every muscle, sense the wind at his favor. It was almost as if he was a savant in the arts. Before long he had bested much of his comrades in combat, with the exception of a couple of elites. But this brought joy to Mikael, gave him a sense of purpose and drive he had lost over the year he spent with him mother.
But every now and again it creeps back to remind him that she was gone. Many thing came to mind about his mother, the beloved woman of his life. How found she was about the world and how proud she was of his growth. To some extent he blamed himself for her death, and to a much larger one he blamed his father. Cancer was something inevitable, it was ticking time bomb waiting to explode. But something kept driving Mikael further, a ignorant hope perhaps but it formed independence and strength beyond what even Mikael could understand about himself. But, it was like it was stated, it was only a matter of time. And he had to take some type of responsibility now that he hadn't a finished education, a home nor a family to return to. His father was a stranger and his brothers were in some place in the war. Mikael hasn't seen them yet, and perhaps he never will.
And so days after the arrival to the front lines, it was all a matter of waiting. Many veterans spoke ill about the new recruits, other pitied them while a certain other percent greeted them in warm, soldier-like embrace. Now in this very moment was a time where he would be put to the test. Still, would his training be enough? Anything that occurred throughout the time was either and inconvenience or bothersome, but it wasn't so much so that it would leave mikael in a bad mood. Soon after the 1st Lieutenant barged in and all stood at the attention stance, as he had taken the time to explain and introduce many and many of the soldier who were around. It was brief as brief can be. But hell, was it at least some type of beacon in the dark. Two lance corporal's were mentioned. And before Mikael could know it a whole platoon of soldier circled the men and started their introductions. Guess he should participate too...
"Excuse the interruptions Lance Corporal's and squad. I just wanted to introduce myself too. I'm Mikael Lauter, Marksman of the fleet, reporting in."
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