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Gallant Witches (Modern Strike Witches RP)

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Regria
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Founded: Nov 04, 2015
Ex-Nation

Gallant Witches (Modern Strike Witches RP)

Postby Regria » Wed Dec 25, 2019 11:53 pm

I sat in my office chair, tapping my fingers contemplatively on the hardwood desk in front of me. I wondered how long it had been since that fateful time. I hadn’t the courage to publish anything since, despite me being a novice journalist who probably had a lot to gain. I guess I felt ‘writer’s block’ in a sense, as I realized myself that anyone else with the information I had would probably be making millions off of some book, back then.

My eyes occasionally wandered from my notebook to my laptop’s keyboard, then to the various labeled CDs sitting atop a pile of paperwork. Maybe she knew I was recording it all, but every time I thought about putting pen to paper, I swore I could feel that veteran's gaze over my shoulder.

It was a bit unsettling, as if she was already judging me for my selfish thoughts of commercializing her war stories. The presence of that woman was intimidating, even in the safety of my own office.

And perhaps it was for the better, too.

I had no idea how bad the war got for them until then, the media had always touted a heroic and joyous combat force obsessed with justice, but it wasn't that simple. Early on, sure, but they only had the old stories to go off of.

I sighed in deep thought, still staring at the CD stack. There was another story told by them, but after hearing it the first time, I never truly had the courage to relisten to them, even years later.

So I'm not sure what motivated me that day to listen again. Maybe it was an article I read online about the war, that got my blood boiling. Maybe I read about the testimonies of other witches, and wanted an unfiltered point of view. Regardless, my decision was deliberate.

My hand reached out to the first CD, titled 'Interview 001'. Not that I was going to listen to just this one. If I was going to hear this story again, I'd hear it in full.

Click.

I opened up the file, and prepared myself.

DATE: NOVEMBER 21ST, 20??
LOCATION: [REDACTED], [REDACTED]



“And what of the peace?”


Image


“...Peace?” Her response had a harsh tone. She sat in a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room. The sole light source, a lamp, sat behind her, bathing her in deep shadow. Bottles of various alcoholic beverages were strewn about the table before her, most empty, a few never opened. She had her leg crossed over her knee, and through the shadows I could faintly make out a black leather military boot, with a long white sock clinging tightly to her leg. Her hands, fingers interlaced, were also clad in black leather. She tilted her head upwards slowly, presumably searching her memories for an answer to my question. She squeezed her hands together as if for comfort, her body language showing that she seemed to have forgotten what peace truly meant. She let out a long, nostalgic sigh and looked back at me as if to say ‘I have an answer.’ Her body loosened up and I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me, or through me. A shiver ran down my spine. Something about her set me on edge, as if I was staring at a ghost. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I knew that there was more to this stern-voiced, alcoholic woman than I had first assumed.

“Hand me that will you?” she asked, pointing towards the ground next to me.

“Huh?” I replied, following her finger to the half empty bottle next to my chair. “Uh...sure,” I put my note book down and picked up the bottle. It read Jasmine Daniels Malt Whiskey. I passed her the bottle.

“Thanks,” she said, popping the cap off and pouring herself a shot. She then proceeded to throw the glass back and down the liquor. “Want one?” she asked, offering me the bottle.

“No thanks,” I replied as I picked up my notebook and shuffled back into my usual writing position. “Suit yourself,” she shrugged as she poured herself a second glass. She set the glass down with a loud thud that reverberated through the room, but this time she didn’t drink. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the full glass.

“Peace…” she uttered that one word again with the same harshness. “What an odd thing to ask.”

She leaned forwards, features still heavily hidden by shadow, pointing a finger at me. “Hey...” she said. I felt almost like a child who was caught stealing cookies. I braced myself for whatever might come from her lips next, as I sat there still holding my notebook.

“Did you know that Humanity has three states of being?”

She set the glass down, and curled her hand into a ball.

“The first is armed conflict...”

“The second is the celebration of its’ conclusion,”

As she listed these ‘three states’ to me, a finger flashed out of her fist whenever she listed them. I wondered just what this girl thought of humanity for a moment.

She paused momentarily.

“And the third is the word that you call ‘peace’, the futile hope that everything will be okay.”

“Those are the three.”

She smiled and shrugged, as if she had no care in the world about the consequences of conflict. Shivers ran down my back. Had I been wrong to seek this woman out? Had I been wrong to inquire about this womans’ life experiences in the 511th? The others had turned me down, or were dead. Perhaps those alive had good reason to.

She lifted the shot glass from the table as if to say ‘Cheers’, before downing it in one go. She then poured herself another drink and leaned back in her chair. She sat there for a notably long period of time, contemplatively sloshing her drink around. I took this moment to look around the room, and found a surprising lack of cigarettes for an alcoholic war veteran.

“You want to hear the ‘heroic’, ‘chivalrous’ story of those witches you’ve heard so much about?” She asked sarcastically, glancing back towards me.

“The ‘Saviors of Hispania’, the ‘Knights in Shining Strikers’? The ‘Gatekeepers of the Mediterranean’ who destroyed that Neuroi vessel? Have you really sought me out exclusively for that purpose? To waste more of your precious time for me to tell of mine? Couldn’t you get some war stories out of any other worthless war veteran?”

I nodded quietly, slowly placing my pen down onto the first page of my notebook, anticipating that she might tell her story. She sighed, finished her drink, and set the glass gently on the table.

“Very well. But understand that what you are about to hear is the truth, The full truth. With none of that military sugarcoating that fills those so called “declassified” documents. And it will be more honest than any of those personal accounts you might have read, and more insightful than whatever those blokes at MI6 or the CIA published on the matter. Even though I, by ‘military protocol’ am not allowed to tell you this… You’re about to hear the story of the girls who fought alongside me in the now-’famous’ 511th JFW, That of misfits, girls of all ages, coupled together in a moments notice out of a hurried panic. Those girls who became sisters in a chaotic war no one of them asked to be a part of. The story of the squadron I commanded and the scarring experiences of the war.”

I observed as she seemed to muse to herself for a bit, lost in thought as she spoke.

“Now, where did it all begin? Ah, yes, I remember…”

“On a beautiful morning like any other, the bright orange sun began to rise over the horizon…”
I can still imagine the scene in my head vividly.


DATE: APRIL 15TH, 2021
LOCATION: MADRID [511TH JFW HOME BASE], HISPANIA


“...What a beautiful sunrise.”

17 year old Squadron Commander Alice Webley thought out loud as she stood in her new office, arms crossed, looking out a rather massive window. It was a rather large wood-paneled office. Two large bookshelves sat on either side of a large fireplace, opposite the door. Red carpets, paintings, and a mahogany desk sat atop a red carpet sat in the center. The warmth of the orange light bathed the room behind her in a beautiful aurora. Outside, the light danced through the clouds like a dove. It had been three days since she had arrived in Hispania and she wasn’t quite used to these sunrises, especially when compared to the colorless early mornings, and dark nights of Brittania. Alice continued to stare out in awe, ignoring the orange eyed and slightly scarred woman that looked back at her through the window.

"Such extravagant sights this early can only be the mercy of a bad omen." A voice came from beside her. Alice glanced over at this new voice, not breaking her posture of a seasoned soldier. The girl who stood beside her was her long-time friend and personal maid, Elly. Unlike the old teenaged master, Elly was a young, 16 year old girl, who kept her long, black hair tied in a tight, curled ponytail. She was dressed in a gothic French maid’s uniform, with a dark-yellow and white theme, frilled hem and sleeves, a brown corset and a black ribbon over her chest.

The trickling sound of liquid echoed subtly in the room, as Elly poured coffee into a massive mug. Elly looked towards her master. “Your Coffee?” Elly asked casually, as she offered the mug to “the savior of her world”.

“I thought I told you to bring me liquor in the morning.” Alice stated bluntly.

“Just because it’s called a Sunrise Cocktail, doesn’t mean you have to drink it at sunrise.” Elly retorted, sighing.

“But booze tastes so much better than your bitter, creamy bean-milk!” She exclaimed with a pout.

“Perhaps the same could be said of all bitter things,” Elly proposed, smiling.

“Perhaps.” Alice responded with a sigh, closing her eyes. “Eating Military chocolate for years made me question why people like bitterness.”

“I know your tastes, so I added some sugar and whipped cream. I also have some sugarcubes on me, If you still think it’s too bitter.” Elly nodded.

“I still would have liked some booze, though.” Alice grumbled in response as she took the coffee from Elly’s hands. She glanced back outside as she sipped from the mug, closing her eyes. “It’s hot… Just like the sun over here.” Elly opened her eyes.

“Don’t you have more pressing matters to attend to, rather than ogling over the sun?” Elly inquired, crossing her arms. “The past two days may have been similar, but today we really don’t have the time.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed out the window. “I guess the sun looks prettier if you really pay attention to it.”

"The ability to appreciate beauty is one of the things that makes Humanity so unique." Elly stated almost habitually, eyes trailing upwards. Her gaze returned to Alice as her eyes narrowed. “But Alice, do the Neuroi care for beautiful things?”

“The Neuroi.” Repeated Alice. Her fist balled up as she took another sip and her brows furrowed, eyes jamming shut as she did so. Lowering the mug to chin-level, her eyes reopened. “...I still can’t believe it. I thought we killed the last of those bastards in 1975. Sure, there were some stragglers, but we took ‘em all out by 2019. I was the one to fire the last shot! So why are they here?! Why now?!” Alice huffed a bit.

“If something is not alive, can it truly be killed?” Elly asked curiously, placing her finger to her lips and leaning her head back. “We’ve learned that the Neuroi are essentially robots with destructive programming. Maybe those initial Neuroi we fought were pawns in a larger game? Scouts, is what I’m thinking.”


“And these are the real ones? Well, that’s not unsettling at all…” Alice said, proceeding to take yet another sip with her eyes closed.

“Hardly,” Replied Elly as she moved behind Alice, running her fingers through her hair and beginning to tie it. “The most unsettling part was that the real ones managed to actually be a threat… The 502nd is buying us time to consolidate our power, but soon you and your squadron will be put to the test.”

“Aren’t all the Joint Fighter Wings in disarray, right now? They were all initially disbanded after ‘75, seeing as the UN never really saw any use in them, especially after the creation of… of…” Alices’ words trailed off as she glanced upwards. Her eyes wandered off again.

“Gungnir?” Elly answered, finished with tying Alices’ hair. She had done it into a ponytail, beginning at the bottom of her skull. “The network of huge railguns built to fight off potential Neuroi attacks?”

Image


“Yeah that’s the one... The one that was destroyed when the Neuroi came back in 2020.” Alice finished, her eyes narrowing. “Put up one hell of a fight, though. The only reason it went down was the chunks falling from the sky were disguised Neuroi. Once active, they disabled Gungnir.” Alice took another sip, closing her eyes, breathing out, and reopening her eyes. “Then, everything went to hell…”

“You’ll probably need this.” Elly stated as she inched towards Alice, dropping more sugarcubes into the coffee. “I know you’d prefer liquor during times like these, so perhaps the coffee I made was still too bitter.”

‘Yeah… Thanks, Elly.” Alice huffed. She drank from her mug, her eyes widening slightly for a moment. “Huh, this isn’t bad. Granted, I’d still prefer booze, but this is fine, too.” She took another sip from her coffee.

“You should go and greet the new witches when they arrive, Alice.” Elly suggested, raising a finger. “Even if they’ll be allowed to run off and do whatever they please, for the day they should still familiarize themselves with their leading combat officer.” she stated matter-of-factly. Her hands were joined together in front of her.


“The new witches…” Alice frowned. She turned to face Elly. “New? As in green? Like the reservists?”

“No,” Elly responded curtly, shaking her head. “The new reservists are being properly trained up at the Gibraltar Citadel. They won’t let a repeat of Burgos happen again.” Her eyes shifted to the side. Alice drank from her coffee whilst Elly spoke, reopening her eyes. Her head turned to glance back out the window.

“Burgos. Damn it.. Why’d you have to remind me of that?” Alices’ eyes narrowed, and her she furrowed her brow. She clenched her fist tightly. “Every time I think of that, I feel my blood boil.”

“As a certain Orussian general put it: ‘One death is a tragedy, a million is a statistic’ " Elly quoted. She looked back towards Alice, with a Steeled expression. “At least they managed to fulfil their objective." She crossed her arms. “A lot more lives would have been lost if those witches hadn’t fought and died, whether they knew it or not.”

“But they’re still dead!”

Alice furiously turned to face Elly, slamming her foot down, her brow furrowed. Elly recoiled, eyes widening. She raised her finger and opened her mouth, but Alice continued to yell. “93% loss rate, Elly! Those are the statistics! 650,000 confirmed MIA, and 216,000 KIA! I’ve read the files, they could have withdrawn at any time, but they didn’t! You wanna’ know why?! Because that lunatic psycho General Morales thought he’d find ‘glory’, if he just... Threw away the lives of children! They only knew how to fire paintball guns!” Alices’ fist was shaking as Elly listened silently. “And yet, those bastards decided to conclude that the casualties were… were… acceptable?! How could someone still be so high-and-mighty after that?” Alice practically roared out.

They stood in silence, eyes locked. as Alices’ brow returned to normal. She took a long gulp this time, turning back to the window. “You can still feel the effects of what happened in the south. Even in Gibraltar families still mourn over their daughters. War to them probably felt like a show on TV. Burgos changed all of that.” She sighed. “No one ever wants to experience the pain of losing a loved one.” she stated.


“There’s a reason why animals protect their young so fiercely.” Elly claimed, her eyes closed. “That’s why we fight, isn’t it? Even if Morales’ actions were improper, you can still fight for others. That’s what I was going to say.”

“I suppose… You’re right, Elly.” Alice sighed. “It still bothers me, though. Those kids were only 12-14, am I not supposed to feel remorse?”

“I don’t feel great, whenever I discuss these types of issues, but...” Elly opened her eyes, and glanced out the window.“Only the witches specified in the files will be arriving, you won’t have to worry about any reservists coming in. They at least have some proper training, and won’t be as helpless as the witches that died at Burgos.”

“What does it matter if they are reservists or not? Most of them don’t have combat experience anyways. They’re just magical prodigies who volunteered.” Alice placed a hand on her hip. “Hell, what really happened at Burgos was likely hidden from them.” She paused to think. “As far as they know, they’re coming here to save the world.”

“Well in that case, it is your job to make sure that dream comes to fruition.” Elly concluded. She closed her eyes and joined her hands together. “You were hand-selected to lead this squadron. No matter how much you try to deny it, Brittania’s high command saw something in you. Maybe it was your track record? Or your tendency to get the job done? Perhaps it was your willingness to do the work other witches loathe?” She paused and glanced back towards Alice. “More likely, it was your noble heart, and that protective nature of yours.” Elly raised a finger.“There’s always a reason for everything, Alice."

“Yeah...” Alice sighed. She glanced back towards Elly, holding out her mug. “May I have another, please?”

“Very well,” Elly smiled. She took the mug and refilled it.

“She told me that I shouldn’t pour too much hot stuff in there.” Her head moved backwards. “Otherwise, it’d end up “hotter than an Oceanic Volcano.” ”

“Avis…” Elly’s smile vanished. “I remember her. You two were like sisters, weren’t you?”

“We were… Before...” Alice trailed off, sadness showing on her face.

“It wasn’t your fault, Alice. We both know that once she was declared MIA, she most likely perished…” She turned her body. “There was nothing we could do to find her, despite months of searching.” Elly bluntly stated. She walked back over to Alice, and handed her the mug.

“Thanks, Elly.” Alice said as she took the mug. “You’re right, though. That was long ago, and I don’t really have the time to think about her, right now. Just imagining what she’d say to me…”

“I’m glad you understand, Alice.” Elly claimed, smiling nodding once. She glanced out the window. “It’s about time those girls started to arrive. Are you going to greet them?” She looked to Alice, hands joined together.

“Someone has to.” Alice responded curtly. She walked to her desk, ignoring the computer on top of it and pulled out a file, tucking it under her arm. She turned to face Elly. “I’m gonna head down to the tarmac. Do you think you could tidy the place up in preparation? I want us to put our best foot forwards, here.”

“Of course, Alice.” Elly responded with a smile. She curtsied towards Alice.

“Thanks… I’ll be around.” Alice made her way to the door. She turned the doorknob.

“And Alice,” Elly began. Her eyes were shut in contemplation.

“Hm?” Alice raised an eyebrow at Elly. Elly opened her eyes.

“If no one is there to see it, is a sunrise really beautiful?”






Image


"Peace never lasts."


Image ImageImage


BACKDROP-- 1945-2020


The world rejoiced that day. Ever since the 501st JFW struck hard at the Neuroi super-nest in 1945 and eliminated it, humanity pushed on with a sense of hope. It was finally shown that we could take the offensive against these previously unbeatable and overwhelming foes. Our confidence soared as we witnessed the 502nd do it again over St. Petersburg the very same year, causing more large scale operations to take place against the Neuroi. Slowly yet surely, we pushed them back.

Though, when the last superhive was finally destroyed in 1951, the Neuroi switched strategies. Their hives became more mobile, concealable, and the Neuroi themselves became more careful. Put simply, they had resorted to Guerilla tactics, perhaps sensing a defeat. We weren't sure why they just didn't dig into the Earth and hide it out underground, but regardless,fighting became more complicated, as the frontline became very unpredictable. With the collapse of the superhives however, victory was inevitable. Their final resistance in Vietnam was tough, but in 1975 the very last nest was destroyed, and the surviving Neuroi scattered.

The world breathed a collective sigh of relief, as any primary invasion force was no longer present. For a while,this united humanity, as the UN was formed, with the mindset that every nation did not wish for another extraterrestrial invader to ever again threaten Earth. It is to these ends that the UN founded the Gungnir initiative, named by a young Suomus child, to construct massive, towering magical railgun complexes intent on blowing any future Neuroi out of the sky before they even reached the ground.

It is for this reason that global JFWs slowly started getting disbanded, save the 501st and 502nd, as more symbolic figureheads. The world advanced on, and technology was reverse engineered from Neuroi to restore both China and Korea to their old state, with refugees moving back in to rebuild. Administrative difficulties forced separation of states, forming China and the Constitutional Constitutional Doseon Empire, which was built up from scratch quite rapidly.

Other than Doseon and China's rebuilding, not much else occured, until the 2000s. Internet started becoming accessible at around 2006, namely due to military reluctance to release such technology to the civilian sector. With everyone rapidly getting connected to one another, minority groups of Balkans in Venetia demanded political representation, citing incompatible cultures and harsh mistreatment for eons. Widely covered political demonstrations turned sour when a no-tolerance policy was declared by the monarch, with military police reactions becoming more and more brutal, as despite their 29% population demographic in Venetia, the land lost would more than likely mean a third of Venetian territory ceded. Facing international scrutiny, a Venetian soldier eventually fired on accident at a demonstrator in 2009, sparking a massive uproar leading into a civil war. Nations once more were pitted against one another, though witches were only "officially" used to destroy hard targets or vehicles, Liberion and Karlsland being the primary backers for the rebels and Venetia respectively.

After a conflict stretching until 2011, the rebels forces had forced Venetia into an unconditional surrender, where 2/3rds of their land was ceded To a new Balkan Republic. Sour relations lingered for a bit, but reparations were made. Once more things were looking up, especially given that an internet cultural renaissance of viral video sharing and editing began, uniting people worldwide.

In 2020, the UN Neuroi Warfare Command spotted a fleet of spacecraft, revealed later to be of Neuroi design. Headlines were made that day and everybody crossed their fingers as Gungnir was put to the test.

Performance was spectacular. Despite waves of Neuroi vessels, constant fire from the railguns were able to thwart meaningful advances, the sheer force of the rounds simply shearing apart any Neuroi core.

Unbeknownst to anyone though, the Neuroi were adapting. As ships were blown to bits, the pieces of shrapnel falling to the ground eventually became Neuroi at rest, and on one fateful day all of them activated, overwhelming Gungnir and destroying it overnight.

Panic spread like wildfire as militaries scrambled to intercept them, and five Neuroi vessels landed on Earth. One just outside New York, another in northwestern Hispania, one in the Philippines, one in the Congo, and one in the Amazon Rainforest, with a massive jamming Neuroi sitting in space and disabling all satellites, slowing Internet speeds to a crawl, and hampering with military systems.

Many militaries of the world began employing reservist witches as defensive units, wielding full size AMRAAM launchers that would be resupplied after each firing, reducing casualty rate of the inexperienced forces, but it offered little operations flexibility in striking back at the Neuroi. For this reason, the old JFWs were reactivated, and magical prodigies (or particularly vocal volunteers) were chosen for these purposes. Slowly, a stalemated frontline formed everywhere much like during the 40s-- only, these Neuroi were more dangerous, and the revelation was made that these Neuroi were actually magical robots, that the ones that were defeated beforehand were just scouts. However, the situation was no longer apocalyptic.

A certain General Morales of the Hispanian Theatre thought differently however, believing that the stalemate showed waning power of the Neuroi and lack of resources. As such, he marshalled up a massive full-fledged counterattack with extensive air, land, and sea support against the ship, slamming the Neuroi with the full momentum of the frontline. At first, these Neuroi were caught completely off guard, as they were pushed back significantly, having expected to turtle up. However, they set up a massive trap as Morales pushed on, and despite his subordinates begging him to stop pushing and set up a frontline, or perhaps even a rearline to fall back on, Morales refused, believing a glorious victory was at hand. It was at Burgos, a mere 40 kilometers from the vessel, that the Neuroi sprung their trap. Hidden AA emplacements lit up the sky everywhere, thus surprising the exhausted and simultaneously confident forces. Despite the fact that they were obviously outmatched, Morales ordered all forces to press on, right up until it was very clear that nearly the entire combat air force had been depleted.

At this moment he authorized a retreat, but it was far too late as the frontline fell way behind the point it already was, causing for Madrid to be evacuated. Luckily, some of his subordinates went against orders and set up heavy AA emplacements along a makeshift frontline, which barely held the remaining Neuroi assault from advancing further. Though the full extent of the story was not covered on media due to possible extreme PR backlash, many grieve the loss of their family members, and demand answers from the silence of the HRs.

Image


SITREP


It is a desperate time for the inhabitants of Earth. After the disaster at Burgos, one of humanity's four grand fronts against the Neuroi has seemed to evaporate over the week, placing Hispania and most of Europe in grave danger, wide open to an attack. Oddly enough however, there has been a brief pause in their attack patterns, allowing for the formation of a new Joint Fighter Wing of elites to hold the line against the Neuroi until more reservists are trained up to reform a consistent frontline, where the JFW shall be repurposed for more specialized missions. The 511th. The Gallant Witches. You will be a member of this group, chosen for extraordinary magical talent, aerobatics skill, leadership abilities, and many other aspects which your traditional Witch lacks. Similarly, new ground personnel must be present to facilitate the bases' duties, as not all heroes are Witches, after all. As such, we are glad to have you with us. May we bring peace back to Iberia!




RULES


1 ) I am OP, the local residing god.
1.5 ) Finorskia is my co-OP, my daughter-in-hosting.
2 ) Please, no one-liners. 3 sentences minimum (ex. for combat interactions), and they must be grammatically correct.
3 ) Godmodding is punishable by holy firing squad if repeat offenses are made. I will also ignore anything I deem as such. Got a question about godmodding? Ask, but please exercise some grounding.
4 ) As is par for the course, 3 strikes and you're out. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, guys-- but just making sure we understand.
5 ) Please try to make at least 1 post per week, preferably more. If you have an inactivity spell, contact me and we shall discuss what occurs to your character in your absence or leave.
6 ) I know Witches lore is weird in the fact that every country seems to have a slightly different name, but please use the countries listed on the map.
7 ) PG-13 please, we don't want Mr. FBI man banging on our doors, or Mr. UCMJ sighting us in with his penalty-is-death sniper rifle. Keep that shit outta' Nationstates.
8 ) No helicopter or tank strikers, also please base your units on an existing aircraft, or one which is projected to make a first flight in 2021. Military technology is slightly accelerated, but no Ace Combat, here.
⑨ ) Chill out, have fun! Don't be cold!

Full Name:

Job: (example: Refueler/Bomber Maintenance (E3 Sentry), Tactical Striker Maintenance, Flightline Expediter, Superintendent, Janitor, Air Combat Witch etc.)

Gender:

Date of Birth:

Rank: ( + Flying if a non-commissioned Witch. Example: Flying Technical Sergeant, Flying Airman 1st class, etc. Rank will be much easier to obtain if you are a witch by merit of a shorter operational lifespan in said field.)

Callsign: (if applicable)

Allegiance: (Which country do they feel obliged to?)

Nationality: (What is their primary genetic makeup/where were they born?)

Personality:

Background:

Striker Unit: (if applicable)

Hereditary Power: (if applicable)

Preferred Striker-borne Weaponry: (if applicable)

Preferred handheld Weaponry:

Appearance: (Write up/Write up + image)


Accepted Characters


Full Name: Alice Webley

Job: Air Combat Witch

Gender: Female

Date of Birth: March 12, 2004

Rank: Flying Warrant Officer

Callsign: Hercules

Allegiance: Brittania

Nationality: Brittanian

Personality: Flying Warrant Officer Webley has exhibited exceptional leadership characteristics under high stress, able to perform in situations where tough decision making is expected. Though she carries herself with a cold exterior, Webley exhibits a strong protective nature towards those she commands, and has been noted to act more casually around her subordinates whenever commissioned officers are absent.

In combat, many of these traits transfer over, with the added positive trait of being incredibly patient and calm under fire, placing her as a potential candidate for a future stealth Striker project.

Background: Flying Warrant Officer Webley enrolled in the Royal Witch Academy in 2016, showcasing exceptional magical talent and academic excellence, which after her graduation earned her an invitation to the Special Witch Service School by decree of the Queen herself. She was then trained in various Special Warfare tactics, and given further combat training in preparation for more intensive missions. Immediately following graduation in November of 2017 Webley was placed in the 008th Special Warfare Squadron, performing numerous tours of duty, participating in Operations [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], [REDACTED], and Operation Swan Song, where she was noted as being the one to fire the killing shot of the world’s final Neuroi. For all of these accomplishments, she was awarded the Victoria Cross by the queen herself alongside numerous foreign awards, and was eventually promoted all the way up to Warrant Officer for overperformance and leading the squadron in the leader’s absence, after refusing a commissioning offer. Given her extraordinary track record, and the situation of the currently overstaffed SWS, Flying Warrant Officer Alice Webley is hereby transferred to Torrejón Air Force Base, to act as Squadron Commander, underneath Base Commander Yuri Mikhailov.

Striker Unit: Eurofighter Typhoon

Hereditary Power: Perception Masking: Allows for complete invisibility from all methods of detection save actual touch. However, individuals with magically enhanced eyesight may still spot her.

Preferred Striker-borne Weaponry: Meteors, Sidewinders

Preferred handheld Weaponry: AS-50A, L118A1 SWS, Honeybadger AAC, VP9 Welrod

Appearance: Alice Webley is 170cm tall, with brown hair that she ties in a ponytail near the bottom of her skull. She possesses orange eyes, a rather unique trait-- though she wears the usual Brittanian uniform for the various SWS witches usually no matter the situation, with long black combat boots-- long white socks stretching slightly above them. She decides not to wear pants, as many other witches do. (actual character image pending)


[TBA] - Played by [TBA]




Table of Contents


OOC <--- YOU ARE HERE!
RED COMMUNIST SCUM WILL FALL
DEMOCRACY SHALL NOT FAIL
ENEMY COMMUNIST VICTORY-- IMPOSSIBLE!

This nation doesn't use NS stats. Who does, anyways?

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