vietmyke

The Last Embers (Dark Steampunk/Fantasy)

Galahad stepped onto the deck, filling his lungs with the cold, sharp air. It brought clarity to him and his thoughts, if for just a moment. Perhaps Ziotea was right, he was a mess right now- but nevertheless, he couldn't stop now. He was so close- he needed just another step forward. That one step was the difference between life and death for his Warband- and the others they had brought along with them. The Man in Black, the Silver Fleet. Galahad looked down at the ship he rode forth upon with unease. What ties did Father Ilya's family have to the Silver Fleet? Galahad frowned- he'd have to keep an eye on Father Ilya- a task while not daunting in and of itself, was a lot to place onto Galahad's already overflowing plate of responsibilities. Furthermore, he couldn't exactly ask anyone to spy on the young scion without raising suspicion. There had to be a way.

Galahad's eyes caught the back of Ragnar's head. Yes, perhaps now would be the time to talk. Ragnar had been snippier than usual lately, though Galahad could not exactly put his finger on the reason why? Perhaps jealousy? The two had been very competitive during their time in the seminary after all. Somehow, all of their arguments felt like they had taken place ages ago- as if they were memories they had as school children rather than no more than a few months ago. So much had happened since that it was hard to think of himself as the same person that had left the seminary just a little while ago.

"Ragnar." Galahad called out, his tone as even as ever as he approached the smaller inquisitor. His name was all he got out before Ragnar went off at him. His brother was still angry it seemed. Still, Galahad allowed Ragnar his moment to spit vitriol at him. He responded with a sigh.

"Everyone needs someone to protect them Ragnar." He said, taking a few steps past his brother to stare off into the ice ahead of them. "That's why we trained as a Warband in the Seminary. If you haven't figured that out by now, you're nothing more than a corpse walking on borrowed time."

"I've never doubted your strength, and I've never implied that you weren't vital to our group- quite the opposite in fact, which is why I wanted you to stay behind in the first place. What would you have done in my position? If you were the Warleader and I was the Aegis? Would you send out the queen to capture every pawn on the board?"

"The queen is powerful because it's mere presence can threaten the opponent. But the queen dies to the pawn as easily as the pawn dies to the queen, and then the battle becomes that much harder."

"Let me put it into simpler terms, dear brother." Galahad said, turning to face him now- his voice cold and harsh. "If you die. We all die. You might be willing to throw your life away in pursuit of glory, but I'm not going to let you sacrifice the rest of the Warband to do so."

"I will apologize for insulting your pride, but I will not apologize for my order- that you so gleefully ignored by the way." Galahad continued, his voice taking on a warmer, if still steely tone- not unlike that of an exasperated older brother. "Which is why we're all out here committing to a reconnaissance by force, as opposed to a smaller, more efficient scouting party. If we had found something worth sending a full party, then of course you would've been sent out with the rest. But here we are."

Taking a deep breath, Galahad turned his head to face the ice again. "Now, as far as what I actually came out here for..."

Galahad was quiet for a moment, as if he were choosing his next words carefully or lost in thought.

"To be blunt, I'm assigning you to the position of Squad Leader- If I'm unavailable or otherwise indisposed, you will have tactical command of the Warband."

"There have been some... revelations... that I have discovered. I believe the Warband is walking into great danger, and I will need your help to protect them all. I will explain in greater detail once we get back from this recon."

"That is all." Galahad concluded, as he turned away and began walking off to the front of the ship. He paused after a few steps, his head lowered for a moment, but did not turn to face his brother.

"I trust you."

Falling Skies: 7th Mobile Armor Suit Team

ah jeez

SPIRITUM

---

"Squad let's regroup- get back to my position." Galahad called out, his Aegis transmitting to the rest of the Barghests, Asa found two: Zimmy and one other- sounds like that means this is supposed to be the diplomatic envoy from Vangar for the peace talks and prisoner exchange. The real question is why the ship was here, and not at Orestia- which was considerably closer to the border, and why it was already here when it wasn't supposed to be in Rassvett territory until the morning.

Still feeling out with the Mist, Galahad looked for signs of life within his immediate vicinity- it wasn't great. There was nothing, or nothing he could detect with all the mist around them. It was like trying to find an ice cube in a blizzard, his senses were buffeted from all directions by the overwhelming sense of mist, and it would take some miracle for him to be able to detect anything within-

"I got something." Galahad said aloud into the Aegis, the surprise barely hidden in his voice. In the blazing miasma of the mist, Galahad had found a mist signature- a strong one. Not unlike that of a WARDEN. If Asa had found Zimmy, chances were there were other WARDENS out here too- maybe this was one of them? Opening his eyes, Galahad turned to the direction of the mist signature he had detected. in the middle of the wreckage, surrounded on three sides by the bent steel of ship superstructure looked like a life-pod.

"Found a life pod or an escape shuttle. One big mist signature inside. Get here fast, let's rally up and check it out together."

Galahad wandered alone a bit further into the crater, looking for a relatively open spot clear of wreckage and mist spots for the rest of the squad to spot him. While he was used to being alone, standing amidst the rubble and the sound of crackling fire put him on edge. Something wasn't right- sure Rassvett and Vangar were enemies, but not even the most vindictive artilleryman would fire on a diplomatic ship, at least not before a more responsible captain would stop him. Even if they had decided to fire on a diplomatic vessel, they would've tried to force it to land or board it- not bring it down in a fiery explosion less than a few clicks away from Rassvett civilians.

The sound of crunching metal brought Galahad back to reality and he sprung back, blade materializing out of the mist instinctively as a huge metal hunk of something fell out of a large pile of wreckage. Stepping forward, Galahad saw what looked like the beaten and battered remains of some strange bipedal robot. A large, hulking 8 foot tall machine forged of some sort of dark blue metal alloy, its head set deep between its shoulders and layers of heavy armor, and a cannon the size of a 40mm grenade launcher attached to its arm. Was it one of the Vangar's new toys? They loved their powered armor- but this machine had sustained large amounts of damage. Across its torso were impact marks, scorches and dents from bullets, blades and spells scoring or ricocheting across its armor. Its left arm was missing and in its place was a tangle of wires and cords in patterns that didn't match typical Vangar synthetic muscle and stuck between its shoulder plates was what looked like the blade of a Vangar power-lance.

"What the hell...?" Galahad murmured as he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the strange machine.

---

Sarabande

IAF Envoy-class Cruiser Palatine

---

“We land on the grounds of the royal place per our request beyond the reach of the public, from our landing point it's about twenty paces to the door.” Captain Rekks went over the plans yet another time. Only thirty five years of age, he looked at least ten years older from the stress. The only son of a minor noble in the inner territories who joined the military to go make a name for himself. Serving with distinction he was transferred to the Imperial Royal Guard and become captain three years earlier.

“Captain. No offense but is this really all necessary?” Colette questioned after holding her tongue for the last hour or so of the security briefing.

“Necessary? Of course it is! The Imperial Majesty entrusts me with your continued safety and we are going into heart of enemy territory here.” The captain insisted.

“Yes and my father is a very smart man for that,” Colette started, “but this isn’t a military operation captain. We are an envoy of peace are we not?”

"How will I convince an entire nation that peace is opportune if I can’t even convince my own soldiers?" Colette questioned aloud as the disbelief began to form over the Rekks features. He attempted to speak mouth forming words but without sound. Finally he seemed satisfied and swallowed a handful of air before he spoke.

“With all do respect my lady. These people are savages and brigands. I wouldn't even blink an eye if they decided to try and attack us. Peace will only come once we crush them beneath our heels.” he asserted. Colette opened her mouth to respond but the sound of instruments and navigation equipment blaring filled the the bridge of the Palatine.

“Captain you should see this.” A slightly panicked voice of the navigation officer called out.

Rekks give Colette a curt bow before turning around and walking quickly towards the navigation officers post. She was working at a tense and deliberate speed cycling through different commands and panels on her console. She gestured at the display ahead of her. A map displaying the Mist currents in the air, vital as to not disturb the reactor which powers the great airship. “Look.”

Colette remained where the captain had left her but shifted to the side to peer at the console. A large concentration of Mist colored an angry red upon the map moving straight towards them. A Mist storm. Mist storms were not an unheard occurrence the large deposits of arcane energy sometimes gathered into powerful destructive vacuums of energy that could alter the very fabric of reality around them. Though this was odd, such storms usually occurred in the wilds and untamed lands far beyond the reaches of civilization where such mist levels could be reached.

“Brace for impact!” Rekks shouted over the roar of the instruments as Colette turned her head toward the viewports gripping the table ahead of her. Per the nature of the Mist such storms were nearly invisible unless you knew what to look for. Colette in her extensive studies had learned some of the signs. She watched closely as the sky outside the viewpoint began to shimmer ever so slightly like a pebble had just been dropped into a lake. The shimmer grew in intensity faster and harder until the entire outside world became unrecognizable blur. The ship rumbled and shook and then it all stopped. The ship made it through the ‘otherside’.

The fading sunset cast sky had been replaced with a shining sea of stars. The land below looked completely different even as the bridge crew frantically tried to regain control of the situation. "Were We teleported?" Colette wondered though her thoughts were cut short and color drained from her face.

“Captain...” She voiced.

“I see it.”

A large military like vessel hovered in front of them. Dark as the sky around them the entire vessel seemed to shimmer in and out of view as if the light was bending around it. Plated with deep blue armor and bristling with weapons like a porcupine, it wasn’t nearly as large as the Palatine but unlike the diplomatic cruiser this ship was obviously meant for battle.

“Is it from Rassvet?” Rekks called aloud, clutching at the gunblade at his hilt as if it would do something.

“Not that we know of sir.”

“What in the spirit's name is going on.”

Almost as if it was answering his question, the mysterious ship began to open fire on the Palatine. A sea of fire was released from the ship as heavy cannons tore into the Palatine. Warning sirens began to blare as multiple consoles on the bridge began to glow red. Colette almost fell to the ground from the force of the impact if it were not for Albriech next to her who gently held her up. She looked towards him, his face stern even as his eyes casted his unease plain and clear.

“Get the princess to the escape craft now!” Rekks yelled towards Albriech who nodded, already dragging Colette by the hand out of the bridge most of the security team following them. Personally rushed frantically around them as they moved towards their battle stations. All the while the mysterious ship continued its bombardment.

As the made there way down a hallway the outer wall exploded. Albriech threw his hand up reflexively a barrier appearing and halting the shrapnel in mid-air. The cold wind whipped into the ship along with smell of smoke. Something came flying through the now opened access point. Smashing into the wall. Everyone froze as it slowly began to untangle itself and pull its way off of the wall. Standing so tall it brushed against the ceiling as its eyes glowed to life- four icey blue lights in a crab like head deep within its torso. One of the large arms raising its arm mounted cannon.

The royal guards rushed past them to engage the new foe. Without thinking Albriech pulled her down a connecting side passageway as behind them was a short mechanical whine, followed by a blast and screams. A voice came over the intercom speaker distorted more static than anything else. “I-rud-rs h-ve boarded - ship. Rep-t intruders -ve b-ded the ship.”

The wall to the left of them exploded as one of the robots was thrown through- it a giant spike of ice protruding from his chest as it crashed into the far wall. Out from the hole that was punched through the door one of the Imperial mages stepped outwards, staff still glowing. A cadre of soldiers pouring outward around her. She looked at Albriech and nodded.

“Do you know what’s happening sir?” the mage asked.

“Not the faintest idea.” It was at this point that the robot eyes began to glow again and with surprisingly quick speed it grabbed the soldier closest to it and easily crushed him in its hands as it rose upward.

“Run!” The mage commanded as she turned away from the pair muttered underneath her breath as her staff began to glow once more.

Albriech and Colette made there way through the ship with speed avoiding contact with the many assailants continually being launched into the ship. They made their way down to the shuttle bay. Off from the main hangar it was used primarily in situations such as these to allow for VIPs and others to be able to escape if the Palatine was ever compromised- not that the engineers ever imagined such a day would come. As they made their way across the catwalk connecting to the shuttle the ceiling above them buckled and burst open and two of the robots landed in front of them.

“Stand back.” Albriech command as he drew his blade from its sheath.

“I can fight.” Protested Colette but he just shook his head slowly never losing eye contact with the machines. Body in a easy defense stance he watched and waited.

One of the machines raised its arm- cannon cannon crackling with blue energy and fired. Albriech flicked his hands creating the same barrier that he had made before catching the blue bolt in midair. Rather than letting them drop as he had earlier with a simple flick of his hands they shot back at the robot at twice the velocity slamming hard into its shoulder. The bolt hit the robot with enough force to tear off its arm and send the robot careening off the edge and tumbling through the open sky below.

The other moved quickly rushing forward Albriech dodged out of the way as the fist punching through the flimsy catwalk, with still enough force to throw Albriech from his feet. He looked up at the robot that towered over him and began to mutter a spell as it raised its fist to crush him. Yet before the spell could be released an arrow slammed into the the glowing eyes of the robot and upon impact released a brilliant blast of light knocked the machine off its feet. Seizing the opportunity Albriech rose and with a flick of his hands used a blast of mist to send it flying off the catwalk.

He looked towards Colette the bow that she had materialized in her hand already vanishing into dust. She gave him a small grin. “If you didn’t want me to fight. You shouldn't of taught me.”

Despite the situation Albriech chuckled. “Get in.”

Colette made her way around the whole in the catwalk and into the shuttle where she began the startup sequence. As Albriech turned to follow her the floor rumbled again as several more robots punched through the outer hull of the ship, throwing them all to the ground.

“Albriech?” was all Collette managed before Albriech slammed a button on the console with the mist, sealing Collette in the darkness as the shuttle's blast doors closed, struggling to his feet with his weapon drawn.

"Albriech!"

SPIRITUM

Sarabande

IAF Envoy-class Cruiser Palatine
The Same Day

---

The fluttering flag of the Imperial Air Force danced among the heavens. A shock of black and red emblazoned with the roaring gryphons - the symbol of House Skymning rulers of Vangar. The flag was worn and the colors were beginning to fade, a few centuries old at this point. Squatting atop of the upper rigging of the Palatine, marking it as the flagship of the Vangar Diplomatic Fleet. Monstrous in its size, nearly twenty feet in length and made of the highest quality of threads by the finest seamstresses in all of the Imperial Provinces. The pole keeping it rooted in place tugged and buffeted in a groaning protest with every gust of wind. The winds themselves were thick, loaded with thick smoke and ash rising from the paralyzed battlefields that seemed to be not but misshapen clumps of green and brown far below them.

Colette Van Skymning of House Skymning stood on the observation deck in deep thought. Behind her was the vast expanse that the was the Vangar Empire, an empire which was forged by the blood and sacrifices of her ancestors before her. The empire which her father had ruled since he was but a young man. It was a land of peace and order where crime was punished with a clenched fist and everyone from the lowest of peasants to the highest members of the nobility had enough to eat upon there tables. Ahead of her was the unknown, the Kingdom of Rassvet. A land of great industry, ingenuity but also one of isolation and seclusion. If the books of history she had read in the palace library were to be believed as well it was a land of corruption and greed. Where the nobility dominated their politics to keep the lower classes repressed and below them in rank. A land where the military and nobility ran unchecked by any form of strong leader. There king only a figurehead to sign documents and officiate holidays. A strange land where children as young as ten were taken away from their lives and families to be turned into killing machines.

So why did the notion of the place excite her so much? It was a simple thing really... boredom. The sweeping vistas of the Vangar empire was too familiar to be of interest to her. Even the Palatine which was compared more often to a floating mansion or castle rather than a airship had come to become the familiar. When she was younger it's many decks and interlocking hallways were filled with mystery and wonder but over time all the nooks and crannies had been explored, there was no more secretes, only the dull and unremarkable sense of familiarity. Ever still there was a lingering sense of doubt in her mind, maybe the nobles were right, maybe she was only pushing for peace as much as she was because of boredom and a desire to rebel. Risking the so called 'honor and prestige' of the Empire by reaching out a hand of friendship to the small kingdom that had spit on their offers of peace and unification before.

Maybe they were right.

One thing her critics claimed was undeniably true: she was young and inexperienced, the only conformation she needed for that was to look at her reflection cast in the glass panes of the observation deck. Having turned twenty years of age just a few months prior, a young woman looked back at her. Hair dark hair fell in waves down to her waist, green eyes bright and filled with a sense of young naiveté and determination. There was certainly a sense of beauty about her but it was the cold and distance type that came from the upper edges of nobility. The cutting image of her mother or so she was told to believe. She never knew her mother, having died soon after she was born due to complications from the birth. She knew not the rigors and troubles of rule and politics like her father or her siblings knew. She was always the youngest, the coddled one, her father's favorite. She may of had the best education and training by some of the brightest minds in the Empire but she didn't have the experience, the foresight to do something with it.

The sound of swishing fabric brought her out of her reverie and back into the present. She turned her head to watch as a lone figure made his way towards her. He was dressed in a crisp and clean uniform of the Vangar Military. Hair grey in color and perhaps a bit longer than typical military regulations, a thick mustache and beard that would've been just as common on a lumberjack. He walked a decided level of purpose about him soft footfalls echoing across the empty chamber. His name was Albriech Bernhardt, some time ago he was a general and war hero of the whole of the Empire. He retired some twenty years back serving in a less prominent role as a tutor to the Emperor's children as a favor to his childhood friend. Uncle Albriech was a permanent fixture of Colette's life and he had always been her favorite tutor. It was upon her request, not her father's for him to accompany her to Rassvet.

"Ah there you are milady. The servants have been looking for you everywhere." Albriech explained as he closed the distance standing next to her gaze focused intently on the horizon. "I should of figured that you would be here. You always did favour the views from up here."

"Yes. My apologies Uncle, I just needed to find somewhere quiet to think. I wasn't really feeling up to being followed around by the whole retinue." She explained, voice tired.

"Something troubling you then?"

"I just wonder if I'm doing the right thing." Colette responded producing a slow nod of agreement from the older man.

"The terrible affliction that comes with being in a position of authority. As it were. I thought the young miss was certain of her position regarding our current matters in Rassvet." Albriech reminded her. It was true since the wars one year anniversary she had been one of the more prolific voices for peace.

"I am certain... I just don't know what it means for our home. Wasn't it you that always told me that war was a necessity needed to fuel the Empire?" She asked looking towards the older man. In return Albriech gave a small smile as he stroked his beard seemingly in deep thought.

"Very true, but I propose to you the words of another wise man" He offered, " - I will do all within my power to ensure the continued prosperity and well being of every man and women beneath me."

"Who said that?"

"Your father, on the day of his coronation." Albriech explained as he placed a hand upon Colette's "From the first day of his rule, he has been focused upon the well being of the citizenry. This war has produced nothing but bloodshed for no gains to speak of. While some may not like the idea of peace, it may truly be the best course we have available."

"Even so, all we have done to the people of Rassvet is destroy their towns and set there fields ablaze with fire. Every single offer of peace we have put forward they have rejected for they feel that our terms have never been generous enough."

"And so it is your job to do what the others can not. An easy task? No. But one that can we be accomplished? I certainly believe so"

"You make it sound so easy Uncle."

"Like most things. Anyway, before I forget, Captain Rekks desires to go over the security detail one last time. I understand why your father trusts him so much, but can the man ever be persistent."

---

---

Hunting the gryphon was wholly less fun than any of them were hoping for. Rather than swooping into the creature's nest and engaging in battle with it, the Barghest squad had spent the better part of several hours tracking it down. Perhaps it was a sense of pride that made them refuse to turn back to town to sheepishly tell the Marshalls they were incapable of finding the blasted creature, or it might've been the fact that they'd already sunken hours into finding it. Either way, it was nightfall before they were finally able to locate the Gryphon's nest.

They called it the Petrified Forest National Preserve. Long before there was a Rassvet or a Vangar, this whole section of the badlands was a beautiful forest. Colossal trees bigger than any skyscraper, huge grazing beasts, and other wonders all growing huge on the Mist. After a time, the water's that once fed the area stopped coming, the ground grew dry and cracked, and things faded away. The only left was facsimiles: minerals and stone that took the shape of once living things. The squad snaked through this landscape of hills and bends. Navigating around the occasional petrified trunk of a tree that lay as if discarded by some giant after being used a toothpick. Here the Gryphon had made its nest, a short distance from Sappl Springs, and its only remaining source of tourist income.

The Gryphon had nestled itself within a small alcove of rock and fallen trunks, the musky smell of beast and dead remains emanating from the small shelter. The Barghest squad had settled in maybe a few dozen meters away, prone on a nearby hill where they could observe the monster and make a plan. Plan A was sit on the hill and unload on it with everything they had- it would definitely kill the Gryphon, but it would ruin pretty much the entire carcass. Its skull was a bit too tough for a bullet, but if they could get a shot at its underbelly or chin they would be able to take it down pretty handily- they just had to get it out of the nest.

"I say we send Bette out as bait." Galahad remarked, smirking at his own joke. "The Gryphon might think she's a rival."

Any further comment out of Galahad was quickly silenced as they heard a low pitched squawk and the squad dropped behind the ridge of the hill they were on. For a second Galahad thought the Gryphon had noticed them, and weapons were almost instinctively being drawn as the Gryphon began climbing out of its nest. There was another loud, low pitched squawk, and the heavy beating of the beast's wings as it took off from the ground and began flying straight towards them.

"Fuck, here he comes." Cursing and bracing for a fight, Galahad drew his gunblade and pointed at the Gryphon, as it flew over and past them. Eyes and heads craned as the Barghests looked up and over their shoulders, watching the flying beast as it didn't fly at them, but rather away from them- fleeing.

Galahad was about to complain about having to track it down again before he saw it- before they all saw it. Nearly impossible for anyone to miss, as out of the cloud layer above them fell a massive fireball. The members of Barghast squad could clearly see that it was not a magical fireball or meteor, but rather an airship falling out of the sky. The airship was huge- bigger than any Rassvet warship. The colors of the ship were hard to make out- as everything was painted orange and grey by its trailing fire and smoke, but it certainly seemed like a civilian liner rather than a warship, if its smooth shapes and angles, and large, probably formerly white balloon was any indication. That being said, it was rather hard to see the entire silhouette of the ship, its back half was all but missing and its sides appeared to have been peppered with holes- likely of the cannon variety- and belched fire and smoke.

Passing overhead, Galahad craned his neck as he watched the massive airship continue its fiery arc across the sky, pieces of wreckage, debris, and even a few parachutes broke away from it. Galahad winced internally as he saw a few of said parachutes collapse- as shrapnel and debris punched holes in them or crushed them. The airship was rapidly losing altitude and continued to shed large chunks of itself before it smashed into the badlands several miles from them.

They could still see the glow of the fire and smoke from behind the craggy rocks and hills- which glowed brighter for a moment before the ground rumbled and a explosion erupted from the location of the wreckage, sending more wreckage flying as the ship’s Mist Reactor went critical and failed.

“That doesn’t look like one of ours.” Galahad murmured as he pulled out his phone, his brow furrowing as he noticed that there was no signal- not even emergency lines. The radiating mist from the explosion was probably fucking with their signal- that, or something particularly sinister was afoot.

Mobile Suit Gundam: LIFELINE

The HMS Nyx, descent towards the surface of Venus

---

Victor found himself where he usually did as of late- along at his observation deck at the top of the ship. Mulling over the past few hours, and the events that had happened. The attack, was a shock for him- for all of them, and before he knew it he along with a few others were assigned to a task force with the sole purpose of hunting down some pirates and giving them a good shooting in response to the black eye the Empire had just received. He was unsure whether the attacks were planned or coordinated, but he did know that it was no pirate they were after, but the Butcher of Banzig herself. One of the biggest legends of the war, Cahtrida was supposed to be dead. So they were either fighting a ghost, or someone pretending to be her- and Victor wasn't sure which option he'd have preferred.

Most of the fleet, unfortunately, was unable to follow Victor onto the surface of Venus, and were stuck waiting and watching while the Nyx, and two accompanying Scroop destroyers- the Mimi and Fifi deployed to the surface. They had the general location of the hijacked ship and signal, and the plan was relatively simple. Find and destroy anything that moved- with extreme prejudice. Unfortunately command had ordered them to do so without glassing the local area so the 5th was going in down and dirty to take care of business.

Ayame, with her 122nd Direwolves would load up with Albatross gear and run recon on the local area. Upon pinpointing the location of the pirate signal they would relay the information to the Nyx and the destroyers flying above. After which they would provide direct fire and support for the Mimi and Fifi's assault teams.

The Mimi's mobile suit team, would be equipped with PINT-1 300mm Recoilless Launchers on top of their standard Heckler rifles and the Fifi's team, would be kitted out with heavy liten shields, not unlike the one mounted on Victor's own Knight Errant. The assault teams would deploy straight from their ships and onto the target location once provided by the Direwolves, and would themselves screen the approach for royal marine dropships tasked with assaulting the ground and ship itself. Meanwhile, the ships themselves would be able to provide limited amounts of support fire via missile launchers and MAG cannons. Accuracy and guidance would be limited once wilberforce particles began getting denser, but they should still be able to soften up entrenched locations or break up what cover the pirates had.

Victor himself, already dressed in his flight suit would be on standby atop the Nyx, his Albatross equipped Knight Errant ready to jump into the fight at a moments notice.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen." Victor said aloud, automatically transmitting to everyone on the squad and tactical frequencies. Operation Retribution is go. Command has no need for prisoners- take surrenders at your own judgement. Don't waste your lives and keep an eye out for your wingman. Lets get these sons of bitches."

"Direwolves." This time, Galahad's voice was transmitted directly to the Nyx's hangar and its pilots' headsets. "Get your fangs out, we're hunting big game today. Izumi, deploy when ready."

An Original FF RP, anyone?

Looks interesting!

SPIRITUM

“I don't think so.” Galahad replied coolly as he returned from the front desk- having just caught the tail end of the conversation on bunking and Bete's comments, a quartet of keys hanging off a loop on his finger. “If its all the same to the rest of you, I'd rather not wake up to the smell of vomit.” He added, tossing a key at Bete and a few others with casual mist-powered flicks.

The Cloudgazer, witnessing its first bit of business in weeks probably, opened up most of the floor for them- a quartet of two bed flats, all next door to each other, though the Barghest squad had set up most of their kit in the empty parking lot, with a small portable fire pit, a gas grill and a collection of collapsible stools, beer cases of varying fullness, and the nearby steps for seating areas. The truck sat nearby, its trailer unhitched, doors open and engine idling as music spilled out of the radio inside and over their makeshift camp. There was the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid as Ray started the grill, and the bright afternoon sun had given way to the gold and purple of the evening sky and a cool, early autumn breeze that wasn't quite biting but just enough to warrant a jacket or sweater.

As the WARDENs of varying drunkeness relaxed and laughed and joked with one another, it wasn't hard to notice a figure stepping up to their little tailgate. For almost all of them it was almost impossible to miss- their training and situational awareness long since drilled into them made them well aware of the crunch of combat boots on gravel from about twenty meters away. Silhouetted in the evening light was a fellow in a wide-brimmed hat, but otherwise uniformed like a Rassvet army regular. The uniform was flat khaki rather than camouflage, and on his left breast there were the Rassvet sword and runes, but on a shield. Marshalls.

"Evenin' there! Just stopped by to check up on you young travelers, make sure alls well!" came the voice of the Marshall, an old, gravelly baritone of a voice with a slight drawl. His hand rested casually on his hip- no more than an inch away from a holstered handgun.

“Marshall.” Galahad called back as a way of greeting, “All's well over here. Anything we can do for you?” Galahad's eyes flitted from the badge to the pistol, but took another sip of his drink casually.

"Well, there's a war on out here, and orders have it that it's my job to check up on anything unusual. So a bunch of young folks like you looking like you just left the Citadel..." he shrugged, "Well, you know." The man was bold- Galahad gave him that, deserters were heavily persecuted by Rassvet, but if the Marshall thought they were deserters, he was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid to approach them on his own. Still, the man looked like he could handle his own well enough- maybe not against a cadre of WARDENs, but well enough against whatever this backwood might throw at him.

Galahad stood up, "You'll want to check our papers then?"

"Yeah, sure do. Just one of you will do, I don't see the point of running all y'all if it checks out."

Galahad nodded as he got up, gesturing to the others that he'd take care of it as he did. As Galahad began walking over to the Marshall he caught the glimpse of of a scope glass- Marshall wasn't alone, and wasn't stupid either. Now aware of the rifleman, Galahad was slow to reach into his pocket, not out of any particular fear, moreso out of a desire to ensure that nothing escalated. It was wartime after all, and there was a heightened security tension. Deliberately pulling out his wallet and ID, Galahad passed them over to the Marshall who quickly flipped through it.

"Says here Third Class, correct? So what's a bunch of WARDEN types doing out here?" In Rassvet, a police state, they were expected to show ID, papers, and endure a check at any given moment. This fellow, out in the boonies a bit, was at least a little more common sense and friendly in his approach. Around Orestia, these guys acted like they were on the front lines already, and that everyone was a spy.

"Graduation. That and the peace talks give short leave before we head out. One last tour of the place we're dying for before we go die."

The Marshall nodded and read off the ID number on Galahad's papers, along with a photo ID and description, got some sort of response in the earpiece, and then handed papers back, "No problem, young man. You check out. Sorry about that, but we're not a big detachment and we gotta be careful in these parts."

"Actually, come to think of it we could use a hand," the Marshall said after a moment, and somewhat sheepishly. "There's a Gryphon been harassing what's left of this town's business for a bit now, if y'all could you know... take care of it. I'm sure I could "lose" a bit of collected funds and whatnot from the lockup. Hell, could throw it on the grill too, take a few trophies... you get the picture."

Galahad smirked and gave a short laugh before taking back his stuff and returning to the group. "According to the Marshall there's a gryphon causing havoc around this sleepy little town. Anyone up for some big game hunting? Bete- I know you've been itching for a fight. Asa? Ray?"

SPIRITUM

Galahad could barely keep up with all the chaos happening behind him- well, he could, but he didn't want to. The chaos and noise had been nonstop for the past several hours that Galahad could barely make a dent into his book, combine the noise and the potholes, Galahad couldn't even hear himself think half the time. Still, to be fair this was exactly what he had signed up for- one last round of loud, bothersome, unsanctioned and irresponsible memories with these jokers. He had been with them for the better part of a decade now, and he'd miss them- even Bete who kept shoving her fucking knee into his back every twenty-odd minutes. For many of them, this would probably be the last time they'd ever see each other until the end of the war- if they saw each other again at all.

It was an entertaining thought, the idea of the war ending- and provided they won, neither of which sounded very plausible in the near future. Galahad wondered how many of them would actually return from the war. Sorin surely, she was a valuable asset and a long ranged fighter, it was unlikely she'd be put in as much risk as some of the others. Sabrina's family was old money, even if all the stories she had told the squad about them were true, they'd no doubt dump a ton of money into making sure she was alive. Bete was a bit of a wildcard- she was just as likely to get scrounge through and survive everything as she was to get too far into enemy lines and buried in an unmarked grave- provided she wasn't court martialed and arrested for insubordination. But Ray? Zak? Sam? The men were strong no doubt, but the war had been chewing up infantry like them and spitting them out for years now. Galahad himself was a bit of a target as well, son of a general and all- and not to mention that enemy mages were always a prime target. Asa was an infiltrator, and probably ran the highest risk of them all. The list went on.

The sound of breaking glass and more yelling brought Galahad back to earth. With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, Galahad snapped his book shut, and tossed it into his mist pocket, snapped the tablet out of the air and put it on the dash as he turned around to see what was going on. Sam had broken a bottle and gotten glass in his hands, Asa had jumped through the window in an attempt to get into the cabin, and Sorin was yelling at them all to stop the truck while Zak did the exact opposite and began speeding the truck up. All in all, business as usual for the Barghest Squad- its a wonder how they made it to the top of the standings.

"Ah' its not that bad- Sam'll make it to town fine." Galahad said with a casual wave as he watched the scene unfold before him. They could see the tiny town- if you could call it that- growing quickly in the middle-distance. If anything, Galahad was more worried about broken glass bouncing around in the cabin while they drove. Shutting his eyes lightly, Galahad reached out and grabbed at the mist in the air around them, finding the tiny and not-so-tiny pieces of glass, blood and whiskey in their midst. With a slow twisting and clenching fist- he began pulling all the flying material into the center of the cabin almost like a rubber band ball, but instead of rubber it was razor sharp glass.

Once all the glass had been collected Galahad clenched his fist once more and the glass crushed into itself forming a smooth round ball the size of a ping pong ball. Inside the ball, the liquor and trace amounts of blood formed the image of a snarling Barghest. He tossed the ball into Sam's uninjured hand.

"Here, something to remember the trip." Galahad said with a short, almost uncharacteristic laugh. Back at the Citadel, the instructors had demanded that anything they could do without magic, they were expected to do without it. Be it cleaning, writing, or other menial tasks, such that it was almost nice to be able to use magic frivolously like this. If their drill instructor had seen this, they'd probably have thrown half the squad on latrine duty just for breaking their cardinal rules.

Another snap of his fingers, and Galahd reached back and thumped Sam on the temple, effectively putting magic painkillers into his system. They weren't actual painkillers, but they dulled his senses a bit, and that combined with the alcohol would probably cover the pain until they stopped so Sorin could actually do proper medical work. Satisfied, Galahad turned back around and contented himself with looking out the window until they arrived.

---

By the loosest definition of the term, one could barely consider Sappl Springs a town anymore. It once was a prospector’s town, but nobody tried to make it more than that, so when the Levistone ran dry its was only a matter of time till folks went looking for greener pastures. In their place abandoned machines, houses, and other refuse remained, a destitute collection splayed atop a small crest in the topography that jutted outward from the otherwise flat countryside like a sore. Along the old main street clung the last few stubborn remnants of life: a cramped looking Marshall's office, the rare and peculiar type of dive-bar that could only be found in the middle of nowhere and combination convenience store and gas station, connected to a rustic- and rusty- single storied motel called the Cloudgazer, if the sputtering neon sign mounted to the roof was to be believed. A small but persistent ecology thriving upon the slow yet ever constant trickle of vehicles down the High Road.

The military truck broke the solemn air as it crested the hill roaring with life: music still blaring, wheels scraping against gravel, inebriated voices unfit to communicate in hushed tones, and the grumble and groan of an engine running on fumes. Puttering to a stop underneath the LED lined canopy of the gas station, the engine gave a sputtered sigh of relief as Ray turned the key. It would appear that the WARDENs were the only traffic that had come through the town that day, though no one bothered stepping out of their respective buildings to welcome the travelers.

“More or less in once piece, impressive.” Galahad said aloud, as he hopped out the passenger side. "Whose turn is it to pay for gas? I paid at the last stop." He asked as he stretched his long limbs and began making his way towards the front desk. He drew the short straw so he was paying for the first round of motel rooms. While these motel rooms weren't likely too expensive, him going first also meant he was likely going to be the one on rotation by the time they got to Costa Del Sol.

SPIRITUM

_{Act 1: In which strange occurrences are begot.
Muzak}

A battered military truck pulling a small trailer, haphazardly painted a dull gray-blue, its paint chipping off in sections, shuddered along the patchy stretch of highway around the ass-end of Rassvet. The truck bumped and bobbed while maintaining its bearings as a wheel fell into each pothole. Sparse civilization gave way to rougher terrain, tweedy tan grass and short, shrubby trees that bowed lazily in the breeze, punctuated by the occasional outcropping of chalky stone. Here, there was no sign of the war, just as there was no sign of civilization- other than the occasional road stop with its typical fixings. Just some kids piled into an old truck with a roaring diesel engine, held together by little more than a few loose bolts and hope, hanging on by straps tied to the rollbars and sitting on their field packs and cases of beer as they headed out for one last howl at the moon together- A road trip around Rassvet, to visit all the places they hadn’t had the chance to before.

Then, after that, they shipped off to the dangerous and very adult business of war. After a decade together, it was going to be strange to part, since they knew they were going to be broken up from Barghest Squad into replacements for depleted WARDEN outfits on the front.

_Brrcaa^chh_nnkk

The truck lifted several inches off the ground and the radio scratched, throwing booze and bodies into the air for a brief moment as the truck collided with a pothole at approximately 70 miles per hour. There was another collective round of light-hearted groans as the truck bounced again for what must have been the fifth time in the last 20 minutes.

“For fucks sake, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to hit every damn hole on the High Road.” Galahad grumbled. Galahad was sitting back in his seat, his feet kicked up on the dashboard, showing off a pair of nice leather shoes and immaculately fitted jeans, his blonde hair whipping around his face as he casually read a small leatherbound book. His other hand loosely held a half full bottle of whiskey, and balanced atop of a simple, minimalist shirt and longcoat was a tablet suspended in midair by its corners, containing a road map of Rassvet. Glancing at the map, they were probably less than a half hour away from the nearest rest stop- a small town called Sappl Springs.

“At least you’re sitting in a fuckin’ chair! My ass is going to be black and blue with all these bumps, Lance ya’ need to avoid the holes man!” Asa shrieked out from the bed of the truck, black hair blowing all over the place and a single hand holding for dear life on one of the rails. The sights of the countryside were beautiful to behold though, even for a city girl like her, she marveled at the forests and valleys. Some passing Wyverns were viewable in the seen distance, a flock of twelve dark-green ones flying out west away from the more occupied lands of Rassvet.

“Hey book for brains! What kinda Wyvern are they?” Asa spat out again, leaning off the side of the truck and looking through the open windows directly to Gal.

“I don't know- not from this distance, nor do I particularly care. I'm a genius not a bestiary. They're not Vangar Wyvern Knights and that's all I care about.” Galahad called back offhandedly, handing the half drunk bottle of whiskey out the window and throwing it back telekinetically into Asa’s waiting hand.

The bottle of amber liquid swiftly trajected itself directly into Asa’s hand and she clapped her small fingers around the concoction gripping it amid the rough driving. Slinking back down into her makeshift seat of on-hand luggage and other odds and ends. Her back pressed into the rear window and she brought the whiskey to her lips, the amber liquid sinking down her gullet absentmindedly before she offered it to Ray.

“Heorot Whisky tastes like paint thinner, but it’ll get ya’ drunk!” Asa quipped to her large-bodied compatriot who probably had a difficult time getting drunk. Meanwhile, light rock and radio talk show phased in and out throughout the truck amidst crackling static, as the shaking shifted the already wobbly dials on the vehicle.

"-nd welcome back listeners to RPR and our continued coverage of the Vangar Conflict! There was hard fighting around the border town of Calty today between Vangar and Rassvet forces in the current push to secure Fort Kelgrav. After several hours of fighting our brave soldiers had to make a tactical retreat. On the Coastal Front: A supply carrier was sunk today a few miles off from Costa Del Sol by a Vangar Submarine. And in more hopeful news, Imperial Princess Colette Van Skymning, the youngest daughter of Emperor Siegfried Van Skymning of Vangar arrives in Orestia later today as part of a peace delegation. More on those talks within the hou-"

Hearing the radio propaganda coming from inside the truck instantly agitated Asa, her cheeks reddened as blood rushed to her head. She gripped the side of the truck once again before roaring to one of the two in the front seat, whoever listened, they’d probably listen.

”Turn that shit off! We’re on vacation, for crying out loud!” Her long planned tangent would be cut short by another bounce of the truck bed, her grip of the railing nearly slipping and falling out of the vehicle as a tire found another pothole.

”Don’t have to tell me twice.” Galahad grumbled aloud, more to himself than anyone in particular, his hands already reaching for the radio dials. There was a sharp crack as he slapped the radio like one would a misbehaving child and the tune eventually shifted back to the light rock station. Galahad and Asa’s sentiments weren’t new or uncommon- many, especially within the WARDENs, were rather skeptical about the idea of these peace talks having any particular effect, especially when up against a nation such as Vangar. As one of their own had so eloquently put it: Peace was a hard thing to work out when one country wanted complete and utter dominion over the other.

SPIRITUM

Galahad Quaid

Galahad Quaid
21 | 6'2 | O+

_{A P P E R A N C E}

Standing in at just over six feet tall, Galahad is a lithe and sinewy individual with the appearance of one who is used to continuous physical exertion, without some of the bulk of his fellow WARDEN members. As expected of WARDEN members, his physique is in top shape, and his thin, but broad shouldered body is akin to the triangular build of that of a swimmer. His skin is a lightly tanned color; and his body, while bearing an abnormally large number of scars compared to the average individual, when compared to a fellow WARDEN, is relatively unscathed.

Galahad has sharp and prominent facial features, with strong cheekbones and brow. His golden blonde hair falls in graceful waves around his head, charming many a stranger, and his eyes are a similarly warm amber despite possessing a piercing, almost chilling gaze. His sense of style outside of his WARDEN uniforms is modern and minimalist, yet stylish.

_{P E R S O N A L I T Y}

Cool and collected, Galahad is a confident, yet soft-spoken individual. His calm and reserved demeanor is often mistaken for an uncaring and aloof disposition, and his cynicism does little to change the opinions of others. Underneath his quiet persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly logical and orderly, Galahad is efficient and analytical, but often accused of lacking outward compassion. He is a competent tactician boasting considerable knowledge of theory, though lacking in field experience. Strong willed and possessing an air of determination, Galahad can be highly critical and will rarely hesitate to call others out on their shortcomings, often leading to him butting heads with others.

Direct and to the point, this sharp witted WARDEN avoids beating around the bush and doesn't mince words. Galahad likes to maintain awareness over every situation he's in and is quick on the ball, able to make snap judgement in combat and react to a constantly changing situation. Capable of operating at peak efficiency, even during times of great stress, Galahad has a very analytic attitude and can be very perceptive and intuitive in regards to people.

_{B A C K G R O U N D}

A child prodigy hailing from the Rassvet Capital city of Orestia, Galahad is the only son of General Quaid, a prominent leader in the Rassvet military. General Quaid is well known amongst his peers, and served for a short time as the executive officer of Prince Fenris himself before being granted his own command. Galahad's childhood was strict and rigid, and consisted of private lessons, tutors, fencing lessons, and statescraft among other things. Throughout his childhood, Galahad proved to be exceptionally bright, and often outperformed his tutors after periods of months, causing the Quaid family to have to cycle through professors from all over Rassvet, and even other parts of the world. An underspoken yet brilliant child, Galahad completed courses rated for adolescents several years older than him before he turned 10.

Upon turning 10, Galahad was taken to the Citadel for testing like many other 10 year olds. His physical tests were average and nothing special, but his mental aptitude and magical tests rocked scales for WARDEN standards. As such, WARDEN requested that Galahad be put into one of their numbers, to which his father readily agreed, seeing the WARDENS as a chance for Galahad to continue the family lineage. Galahad had little opinion either way, and relegated his decision to his father's.

Upon entering the Citadel, Galahad quickly propelled himself to the top percentiles of his class, his natural brilliance and aptitude with magic, as well as a surprising amount of natural leadership supposedly born of his pedigree sending him towards the top, with only his physical abilities holding him back. During training, Galahad maintained a aloof and confident demeanor, and cared little of what anyone thought of him, students, and instructors alike, and spoke with his actions more than his words. This gained him fans, friends, rivals, and enemies in equal number, some valuing what he brought to the table and his dependability, while others disliking his arrogance and coldness. A natural leader among his peers, Galahad gained popularity among his classmates as both an effective leader as well as follower.

Galahad's main shortcomings were his physical aptitudes, which were by no means poor. Galahad's physical attributes, while not stellar when compared to some of his classmates, were far from substandard, and he remained on par and competitive with the general body of his class. To make up for his physical lackings, Galahad primarily relied on his intelligence among other skills to see him through physical challenges, which only got him so far in tests of pure physical strength.

Graduating near the top percentile of his class, Galahad narrowly missed the cut for Second Class WARDEN, and was relegated to Third Class until he gained more field experience. Galahad left the Citadel with a small, core group of comrades, and a newfound confidence in himself. Upon graduation, several of his friends suggested taking a trip, a last hurrah of sorts, before they received their assignments to the frontlines.

_{C O M B A T}

A magic specialist in all definitions of the phrase, Galahad takes his place among his peers as one of the best mages in class. What allows Galahad to stand out is his ability to manage multiple destructive elements simultaneously, changing spell type, and form to fit his needs in the current situation. He can form and propel tiny chunks of stone and metal like bullets, call down lightning from the sky or through his hands, and loose a blinding flash of light without missing a step. While capable of shows of great power, Galahad prefers to make his magical attacks relatively small, precise and concentrated, favoring the preservation of energy and smart use of resources; and reserves flashy displays of power for intimidation and destruction of enemy morale. Galahad is a versatile and dependable spellcaster, and overwhelms his foes with precise, potent strikes from different angles and sources. Galahad is also competent in other areas of magic as well, including short ranged teleportation, healing and illusion magic, though these skills are less practiced than his destructive specializations.

While normally preferring to conduct combat from a safe distance, Galahad is just at home on the frontlines with his comrades, light gunblade in one hand, and magic spell in the other. Darting in to deliver a few quick blows with his blade and then pulling back, Galahad is a nimble fighter when on the front lines, fully aware of his lack of bulk when compared to some of the other frontline fighters, and as such rarely stays in one place for too long.

_{N O T E S}

N/A

_{R E L A T I O N S H I P S}
Galahad describing his squadmates during an interview upon graduating conducted by a younger WARDEN trainee:

• Asa - Unpredictable and aggravating. That being said she's a useful asset to the team: unorthodox and good at what she does. I'll admit, despite my initial misgivings I've grown rather fond of her. Be forewarned, if you tell her I've said this I'll never hear the end of it- and if that should happen I will end you and no one will be the wiser.
• Sam - Dependable and capable. I'm unsure how he manages to stay so upbeat all the time, but its not unwelcome. He follows orders well, and has the initiative to adapt when things go wrong. If Sorin keeps the team's physical on the mend, Sam keeps their mental. If there was ever a WARDEN that every squad should have at least one of, it'd be Sam.
• Sorin - Caring and efficient. At least for me, I find her to be the most agreeable on the squad, she has wit and is an excellent support caster and fire support. She takes care of the squad, and we'd all be lying if we said we wanted anyone else- or at least I would.
• Zak - Enduring and unrelenting. What? Yes I know his name is Lance, he asked me to call him Zak, and if that's what he wanted, I see no reason to deny him that. Anyway, to be honest, I'm surprised he didn't wash out in the early years before we were assigned to the Barghest squad. Sounds harsh I know, but he was... lacking, in most aspects. He was friendly enough, but friendly doesn't win missions. Still, he surprised me- maybe all of us. In my years in training, I've never seen him give up- at anything. That's not something I could say about even myself. I wouldn't say he's exceptional in physical or magical aspects, but he has grit and he has loyalty- and its hard to deny the growth. I don't know if there's anything else you could want in a brother.
• Ray - Big fucking bear. What do you want to know about him? You've seen him. Its impossible to miss him. I've always liked the man, even when we were kids he was hard to dislike. Honestly, I'm surprised he was able to keep that demeanor all throughout training. Always the least willing to get into a fight, but no one wanted to mess with him- it was great when the parties got rowdy, didn't matter how loud the trainees got, they'd shut up immediately once he cleared his throat.
• Betelgeuse - Gruff and borderline antisocial. I know what you're thinking. We probably got along great didn't we? No, we didn't. Frankly I'm surprised we didn't kill each other during training. She was irritating and insufferable when we were training, and she was irritating and insufferable when we were assigned to the same squad. But, like Asa, I'd be lying if I said she didn't grow on me. We actually did get into a fight now that I think about it, and we bonded sometime during our stay in the medical rooms and punitive training. No I won't tell you who won, and she won't either, keep digging and you might get hurt.