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Beyond the Veil: A GATE Inspired RP (IC)

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Legatia
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Founded: Nov 30, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Beyond the Veil: A GATE Inspired RP (IC)

Postby Legatia » Sat Jun 29, 2019 5:17 pm

Image
“And so they fought."

Beyond the Veil: A GATE-Inspired Roleplay
The tale of Strike Group Essex
Parts from Bentus' Unto The Breach with permission. Inspired by the anime Gate and other media.


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IC





United States Navy
Maritime Patrol Squadron VP-16 "War Eagles"
Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean
9JUN19 0200 ZULU



"The multinational search and rescue effort for the lost 'Strike Group Essex' is entering its fifth day. The lost strike group is the single largest group of vessels to go missing in recorded human history, with many thousands of sailors and marines unaccounted for. So far the United States Navy has reported 'no trace' of the large formation lost about 200 miles south of the nearest landmass. Joining me now is US Navy Rear Admiral Thomas Wellenber..

Rays of sunlight cascaded from the azure sky above to the endless Pacific beneath, sending a gleam off of the waves and into the small windows aboard the P-8 cruising above it. This aircraft was one of hundreds currently scouring the seas to the south of Okinawa in an effort to find the strike group. The Navy had panicked after 14 hours of zero contact and zero clues. Every available asset capable of assisting with the search, including a multitude of Air Force Reserve squadrons, international partners, even civilian craft had been requisitioned to tear over every inch of the search area.

From one of the TV mounts aboard the Poseidon, a CNN interview with a Navy admiral spoke the same tune that had been spoken the past few days. The Navy was 'exhausting every effort' to find the lost strike group, and that the case was 'bizarre' and 'unprecedented'. The issue had captured widespread national and international tension- politicians had used it as a springboard to lament everything from US Navy policy to wider critiques of US geopolitical strategy; civilians had held vigils in their cities praying for the Strike Group.

And so the search continued. The President had sworn that the military 'would spend every waking moment' searching until something was found. But no one knew that with this singular, stirring event, the threads of fate had wove this world and another together- for good or ill.



United States Navy
Strike Group Essex, 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit
Naval Station Horizon, Corlean Trust Territory
9JUN19 0400 LOCAL- Exodus +5


Naval Station Horizon was a home away from home- Earth's foothold in a brave new world. While it certainly wasn't as austere as Plymouth or Jamestown was, the situation was no less fantastical- highly advanced wayfarers landing upon unknown soils. Perhaps it was an ironic twist of fate that Americans- who had such an experience occur on their own continent- would go on to do the same to a new world.

Under strict mandate from the MEU's Commanding Officer, the Marines of the Strike Group were limited on what they could be doing. Beyond helping to set up the base, gathering food and establishing logstics, the current standing order was not to leave the base without orders. Although occasionally a platoon would depart and patrol the nearby town of Trisondil, the rest of the MEU's Marines passed time as best they could in the early morning- most did this by sleeping in at this hour.

In the dusk of the morning, however, the four Marines standing sentry at the west gate batted their eyes as a LAV pulled to their barricade, the headlight beams dazing the fatigue-racked men at their posts for a second. The rumbling of the engine died down, as the LAV's crew of three popped the hatches into the cold and humid early morning air. A light fog, blown inland from the seas, drifted lazily among the grass as it collected on the brims of their helmets, on the steel of the LAV, on the blades of grass.

Behind this LAV, a set of wheeled vehicles- two HMMWVs and two MTVRS were quickly parked. A group of Marines started to hover around the growing convoy as a second LAV arrived, parking at the rear. The fatigue-clad men hauled boxes of MREs, medical supplies, ammunition, rocket launchers, camping and survival equipment into the trucks. Atop one of the Humvees, a Mk19 grenade launcher was bolted into place, a box full of 40mm grenades placed in next to it.

As the base's generators warmed up, a pair of floodlights illuminating the convoy, First Lieutenant Graff finished off the remnants of a strawberry Poptart, wiping the crumbs from his platecarrier and shouldering his rucksack. Today was stepoff day for the 1st Composite Recon Platoon into the wild yonder, and Graff couldn't exactly say he was ready. Checking the mag of the rifle slung around his check idly, he pushed off from the Hesco barrier and into the rear LAV, where himself and the command team of the CRP would be situated- for now, simply himself, the Platoon Sergeant, and the radio operator, leaving the other seats for their gear and equipment. Propping open the rear door, he tossed his own ruck into the right corner of the LAV's crew bay, leaving him rather unburdened.

As the logistics company finished loading the supplies for the convoy, the now-assembled group- that of the 1st CRP- stood off to the side in a loose formation. These men and women had received notices from their command throughout yesterday- some at lunch, some at dinner and some just before bed- but it mattered not. They had a mission- and they needed to get moving. Graff nodded, glanced back as the Marines cleared from the convoy, towards his platoon. Letting his rifle hang at his shoulders, he approached the group, waiting for about a few seconds, as the talking quieted, before starting.

"..Ladies and gentlemen. I will make this brief, we have a mission to get onto. Welcome to the 1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon. I am your platoon commander, 1st Lieutenant Micheal Graff, United States Marines. Welcome aboard. For my Marines, you know how we conduct things here. But for everyone else, we'll be going over it again. In this platoon, I make the shots. If you have an issue with how I call them, you talk to me afterwards. I expect nothing short of your unreserved willingness to comply, and motivation to complete any task I give properly. You can expect of me to be fair and firm in all my dealings with you, and to expect that I will never give you an order I would not carry out myself." He gave a brief pause, and then continued.

"This is an important job. It is imperative that we keep our weapons safe and stick to the plan at all times. Our navigation is limited to that of compass and very rudimentary maps, so do not expect our navigation to be accurate." Pacing back and forth slightly, he stops before the convoy and regards the group. "..Call all your contacts, do not engage unless fired upon or cleared to do so. Report anything you find or see, so on."

"..As for our mission- the time now is 0400 hours. At 0415, we will be stepping off. We will be following a road known as the 'Branch Road' that runs to our north and performing reconnaissance. We expect to encounter a small village sometime past noon, and we will be gathering information from the locals. We will receive updates as needed from headquarters here at Horizon, but do not expect to be returning here for some time. If you left something behind and want to fetch it before you go, now is the time." Waving a hand, he stepped away from the formation with a nod. "Dismissed. Get your things ready and mount up. If you're not mounted by 15 past, you're getting left behind."
Last edited by Legatia on Sun Jun 30, 2019 6:47 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Amarian Union
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Postby Amarian Union » Sat Jun 29, 2019 5:24 pm

*The young PFC Raven Imada would be all geared up as she would await her fellow Marines to finish gathering their gear or to gather up. She would keep quiet, all of her gear packed onto herself. Her SMAW would rest over her shoulder, the rest of her explosives packed into their respective pack and pouch. She would stare at the ground, now only waiting for the order to mount up.

She would be covered head to toe in in standard issue USMC gear, save for her BDU shirt. She would instead be wearing the basic undershirt under her Kevlar armor, her scrawny arms exposed to the light wind. Her last name would be taped to the back of her helmet, a nicely drawn raven drawn below it. She would continue to await further instruction, already geared up for the mission.
Last edited by Amarian Union on Sat Jun 29, 2019 8:32 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Ormata
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Sat Jun 29, 2019 10:28 pm

Warden Kiles& Sienne
10km N of Trevvly
1900 8Jun19


There was strangeness in the sky. The little bird they’d asked had told them of that strangeness, of how is ran close to the ground and flew like a fat hummingbird in every which way, of how it screamed night and day and didn’t ever seem to cease. They’d come from the Grey Fleet moored away, come there and carried the foreigners not on their backs but inside them. They gleamed in the morning sun, gleamed like armor, and they still did scream. All it had cost was a few berries to know this, to know that they had camped roughly to the south of Trevvly in the fief they’d taken, and yet Kiles wished he knew more. He wanted a picture of them, but little bird had refused to let him see that memory. He’d have had to relive it. The Warden forgave.

They were there for that, among other reasons. Being dispatched from one frontier to another was annoying, but there was at least a reason for it. A minor blueblood had been disposed of by unknowns and the nobility higher-up wanted it to be known. That was reasonable. They huddled about the fire, huddled there with hands outstretched and eyes still used to darkness. Green dances licked just a foot up into the sky, maybe, though no smoke came soon after, though no noise came from the hungry flames, though no light came from her music. No, just warmth. Just honest warmth. Kiles stared into it, nodding as he saw it get smaller. One hand reached back, snatching a short log from the pile.

“Tomorrow,” he said in a lower tone than normal, “We’ll need to get in touch with the birds. They’ll be more use than the locals at finding some information. There’s a town south of here. We’ll get supplies there before setting off again.”

Sienne didn’t nod, didn’t smile, didn’t really move at all in her form. She sat there, leaned against her pack, arms around clenched-up legs in a little ball. “OK,” was the near-whisper response, her mouth turning wry at the prospect. Every new place one went, Kiles always did get requests to purchase her. Some were ignorant. Some were bastards. It was never pleasant. At least in Cael, everyone was dirt poor and just looked on her with hatred. Why, after all, does the stain get to have quarters with the Warden, get to have regular and steady meals with the Warden, and not one of they? Then again, Kiles was a foreigner to them, too. There wasn’t much difference between he and her save for the fact that neither were much in the way of happy.

At least they weren’t always around.

The forest about them shifted just a bit. Kiles didn’t move at all. Sienne barely looking to be alive at all, just shifting a little in her crouched position. A wind ran, the leaves shifting and fluttering, dancing against one another with the sound of rain on the rooftops, but neither were really disturbed. The sort of place was life, life itself and the sort of place Kiles was most comfortable with. It was a field without a watcher, without a handler, without a blue blood trying to confuse and muddle things, and for that he was happy on it. No one was coming for them, anyways; Kiles had his ear to the ground, so to speak. One always holds a perimeter up whenever setting camp. There was a long silence between the two, both just listening to the wind’s call.

“Get some sleep. We’ll move early in the morning.”

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Mediama
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Mediama » Sat Jun 29, 2019 11:46 pm

Naval Station Horizon, Corlean Trust Territory
June 9th, 2019; 0400


Cassandra Newman had nodded and went quickly back to the medical station, she opened her medical assault pack, and took inventory of her belongings.

Aside from her standard medical equipment for quick fix operations on the field, as well as her hydration bladder and an MRE or two, she had managed to pack a solar charged power bank (for emergencies), the first two books in the Witcher Series (she was still stuck in the middle of The Last Wish, and still had Sword of Destiny to look forward to), a sketch pad and some art supplies in a small bag, and a small case with an old D.S. that had been sent from home before things started turning sideways (her sisters had been thoughtful, and she had the distinct feeling they could be useful later on) stored with her sleeping bag and her hygienics on the bottom compartment. On the outside of the medical assault pack were two IFAK pouches as well as patches with a subdued version of the Red Cross, and her last name on top of that.

She checked her own uniform pockets, which housed her phone and iPod, both were relatively useless at this point, but still could provide music to pass the time in her trouser pockets, and her pocket bible her, notepad, and her G.I. pen and pencils were on her breast pockets. She checked for her cross necklace under her dog tags, to which they were.

Sighing in relief, she took final inventory on her medical supplies in the three flaps of her main ruck compartment, then zipped it all tidy and hefted it back on. She did a final check on her modular tac vest with her name tape to the right and her blood type square on the center and the various pouches attached to it, making sure her short range radio, her bayonet, her NVG goggles, her gas mask, her pistol, their magazines, and her carbine’s magazines were all stored neatly in their holsters and their pouches, and tapping on her vest to make sure that yes, her plates were in their vest, all intact and safe and sound, ready to take the hit for her.

She pat the top of her head and found that her helmet was there all strapped on, along with the rigging for NVG’s and the ballistic goggles neatly on top of them, covered for the time being. The name tape on the back was also attached to its Velcro.

To say she was over prepared was to say the least, and perhaps a little overpacked. But she was satisfied with what she was carrying. Satisfied that everything was there, she fixed her tactical gloves, picked her carbine back up, and rushed back to the convoy, swallowing a lump in her throat as they were getting ready to go out to the great unknown.

As she waited, she took out her pocket bible and whispered her prayers. She prayed she she would come home, alive, to see her sisters again. They must be worried by now, not knowing where their big sister was. She hoped she could make amends with her father when she came home, they just had to after an ordeal like this.

And finally, she just hoped she didn’t die before she could do the lord’s work and helped someone, anyone.
Last edited by Mediama on Sun Jun 30, 2019 12:51 am, edited 3 times in total.
Basically, Canada with Naboo style royalty and more British. My supposed foil and puppet nation is Consertoria


MBC News: Mediaman deployments to Qaidi wind down as conflict in Qaidi comes to a resolution|Mediaman troop deployment escalates in Special Region|HMS Mediama redeploys to Gibraltar for refit|Former Qaidi naval taskforce on standby at Gibraltar|Mediaman royal runs away with lover, Mediama provides asylum|Mediaman Red Cross steps up deployment|Ministry of Foreign Affairs works with British North American Union to provide Commonwealth International aid to Special Region|Margery Thompson inspects local pub for Saint Patrick's Day

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Amarian Union
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Founded: Jun 24, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Amarian Union » Sun Jun 30, 2019 12:22 am

Raven would see the Navy HA rush back, turning her head back to the view of the ground before looking up. She would remove her helmet, remaining quiet and thoughtful as she would wait. Her thoughts would be of what laid outside and of those around her. Raven would close her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She would think to herself not to say a word until she could trust anyone around her, even with having to have the trust to survive alongside her fellow Marines and servicemen. The loner Marine, having not said a word since she was with the Strike Group, would open her eyes again. She would look down at her helmet, turning it to see her last name written on duct tape on the back of it in cursive instead of Recruit Handwriting. She would stroke a finger across the tape before returning her gaze to the sky.

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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Mon Jul 01, 2019 11:38 am

United States Navy
Strike Group Essex, 13th Marine Expeditionary Unit
Naval Station Horizon, Corlean Trust Territory
9JUN19 0330 LOCAL- Exodus +5


Normally, alpha squad had a lot more trouble getting ready in the morning. If a patrol were to start at 0400 hours, you were damned sure that the first private ready would be at the meeting point at 0350. The majority would turn up at 0355. However, that was on earth. Here, wherever they were, things worked differently. After Maria Gutierrez, sergeant of alpha squad, had checked her magazine for the fourth time since waking up, she looked around the meeting point she’d agreed to with her privates. Of the twelve members of the squad, six were already there, including her. When she had arrived fifteen minutes before, for the first time ever, two privates were already waiting for her.

There was something about the place that made the privates both agitated and excited. Even in the damp, cold, foggy morning, the dread of many a soldier going out on patrol, there was something magical in the air. It felt differently, it sounded differently, it smelled differently. The birds sang different songs than the ones at home, and the trees gave off different scents. Yet, the saline smell of the sea was all too recognisable to the marines. The crash of large waves against the cliffs was well-known to those who frequently visited the ocean-side.

There was also a sense of adventure, though. Nobody spoke about it, but everybody fantasised. You could see it in their eyes as they looked towards the horizon, or during quiet patrols. Everyone was thinking. Maria was no exception, of course.

“What are you thinking of, Peterson?” she said, calling out one of the privates. The young lad, eighteen years, was the youngest of the squad, and everyone’s little brother. Maria had never had siblings, but the members of her squad had become pretty close, more so over the past few days than over the other months they had served together.

Peterson, who had had his edition of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix open without looking at the pages, pulled up his shoulders. Small tufts of his dark blonde hair came out from under his helmet, which looked just slightly too big or his boyish face.

“Well…” he answered, closing his book and putting it down on the crate next to him. “… I was just thinking how people always say that we’re born too late to discover the world, and too early to discover space”

He smiled for a moment, and a few others did as well.

“I guess we got lucky in that regard” he added, the emphasis on ‘that’ being lost on exactly no-one.

“Yeah, I guess that’s kinda cool” Maria answered, mostly to keep spirits up. It was better to think of the positives of their situation than to keep hammering on the negatives, of which there were plenty. The idea of them being intrepid explorers was certainly more appealing than the thought of being stuck in a pre-industrial hellhole at the edge of the universe.

“I hope we come across nice cities” Private Jackman said. Others looked at her, surprised, but most nodded in agreement. “I mean, NYC is nice, but it would be nice to walk in a medieval city once”

“Yeah!” Harridan said in support. “I’ve been to Venice, but imagine it would be a lot nicer without all the tourists…”

“Oh, yeah. The rich boy’s not happy with all the tourists in his private playground, is he?” Jackman said jokingly, causing an awkward smile to appear on Harridan’s face as he hid it between his legs. The others, sensing a moment of weakness, began shouting their own abuse at the lad. Maria smiled, but quickly intervened.

“Alright, that’s enough, folks. Save your strengths” she said.

“What do you think?” Peterson said, looking in her direction. There was an innocent smile on his face, of a boy getting comfortable with his surroundings. Harridan had now also recovered, and was looking at her with his expecting, brown eyes.

“Yeah, sarge! What do you think?” he added. Maria tried to keep a straight face, but the prying eyes of her squad made her don an awkward smile herself. Then, her face got serious as she looked towards the sky, and then towards the sea where the ships were still adrift.

“Hmmmm… I hope we do a better job of this whole discovery business then our ancestors…”

Maria didn’t mean to make this conversation turn this way. It was just the most honest answer she could give. Thinking back of people like Columbus and Pizarro, she couldn’t help but feel like it was a cautionary tale that would get lost in the mix. Yeah, they could discover. And they also had the firepower to impose their will on two empires and then some. She didn’t mean to, but it did hit home with a few privates. The quiet returned again, their gazes drifting off to the sea, the sky, the horizon, or the ground. Maria looked at her watch.

“Alright, squad. 0355, let’s move to the meeting point. Heading out in 20 minutes. Anyone who is not accounted for will get a kick in the nuts or tits, whatever is most appropriate”
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.

Lack of a real name means compensation through a real face. My debt is settled


Part-time Kebab tycoon in Glasgow.

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Amarian Union
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Postby Amarian Union » Mon Jul 01, 2019 2:59 pm

*Raven would place the helmet back on her head, securing it with the straps tight. She would look around her, still awaiting the rest of the squad. Her silence would be expected from anyone that would approach her, not having said a word to anyone and still keeping to her silence, even if it pisses off NCOs. She would not think much of anyone around her, staying clear of observing them lest someone try to pry her open. Her thoughts would not be of anyone; not of her squad nor of anyone else around her but of what may be out there and what of the outcome.
Last edited by Amarian Union on Mon Jul 01, 2019 3:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Nations United for Conquest
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Postby Nations United for Conquest » Tue Jul 02, 2019 5:14 pm


Naval Station Horizon
First Sergeant Rainier Fletcher
9th of June, 2019 | 0400


The town was fairly simple and little to gawk at being not much different from the other small towns and villages that law along the outskirts and side of the long dusty and poorly kept roads that extended like the routes of a tree from this small town. The roads in the town itself being no different, as they too were made of the same dirt, with no other materials such as cobblestone or payment to be found, the latter being a likely impossibility no matter where one was to look across the long sprawling landscapes and the towns and cities that voted them. The town was grand in the statement that it was no some simple on dirt road town like the others around it, but rather it posed to roads that intersect one another in the center of town, one riding north to south and the other east from west, though not long after one was to leave the village they would find that the road began to split an innumerable amount of times and the directions of these little side streets and pathways would diverge some matter of times until it was near impossible to tell where you were walking lest you had a compass or the expansive knowledge of the lands only one who had spent their entire life walking upon the road could possibly know. Along these two ordinal streets, or rather pathways through the town was where the most activity could be found with shops and galleries of all sort lining either side of the pathway selling all manner of goods from simply wood crafts to medicines and herbs for the sick, with an almost equal number of pubs per two or three buildings along either side of either of the two streets. For such a small town it may have seemed like a necessary thing to possess, but then again, it was the largest town for sometime and by default was to have the largest portions of people to drink, and where there are people buying goods there will always be those that will seek a hot meal and food to accompany them. The roots of the town that extended from these great north-south, east-west trunks were interesting in their own right, with many being far from level and having small streets or ditches running under them, causing the formation of small bridges and tunnels to form every so often.

Along these long and winding side streets, evidently it would appear that only the two main streets had been planned and measured to be straight and level, one would find a lesser amount of shops and galleries and instead find the houses of the common folk, with the quality of such houses differing as one went further from the shops in the center areas of the town and approached more towards the outer wall-less fringes of the town itself. Near the center were the grandest of the houses, though in reality were far from anything special, only being elevated to some level of greatness by the fact they were the largest in the province itself and therefore the largest and nicest around. Yurt, the best of the backwater is still the backwater when one truly compares it to something outside of the area in which it resides. Nevertheless the houses were still some sight to behold, being among some of the few two story buildings in the town that were not some shop or in and possible actual foundations that were borne of stone rather than simple lumber as one would have found in the outer fringes of the town. In fact it was very likely they even possess their own cellars of some fashion that one might find in the food store houses that could be seen just outside of the town near the many smaller farms that dotted the landscape like far distant trees or mountains. The bases of the house were natural that of stone that have been stacked to form four large pillars, each positioned at one of the houses and held together through some mixture of mortar that was unknown, though likely involved clay to some degree, given the closeness to the shore and the many rivers that struct inwards like mighty lightning bolts. Around these four pillars and number of walls would be constructed in a similar way with the bottom edges singing perhaps half a foot or so would be of the same stone held together in the same manner, but after that point would turn over to the style of logs cut from the mighty trees of the surrounding forest, and laid together in a neat pattern that requires very little mortar to secure in place. Such a style of building would form the first floor of these houses, and the second being formed in much the same style as the other houses, with the logs being aid upon one another to form the design that is most similar to that of the other houses of the town; a log cabin of some sort or style, though improvised in several places as was common of the so called lower class. Though in a province such as this there was likely to be a small difference between those who would call themselves the upper class and those who would be the lower class, besides of course race or species. Upon this second floor, there would be the simply bedding rooms of the those who inhabited the building with perhaps no more than three rooms of such a type positioned upon the upper floor, though in the powder was a single man, it was likely that instead of three it would simply be and open space with a singular bed and perhaps some manner of small storage to be found in addition to whatever chests he may or may not have had. The lower level of the house would be a much more open concept space with a small kitchen off to one side with a fire to act as the stove for cooking meals as well as warming parts of the house on especially cold winter nights. The rest of the house would likely be dedicated to the lounging area, with the largest of the two fireplaces being positioned here and primarily used for heating the entirety of the house in winter, as it never reached the coolness that required fire in the warmer months, unless perhaps it had been raining and a chill had crawled into the house under the poor watch of those who lived inside. Here would be the entertainment area of the house where those who had been working, such as the man of the house, would sit on the afternoons to read or entertain himself in some other craft, or perhaps should he have invited guests, give them some show. If there was a particular rich man who owned such a house in the province, and there were very little aside from perhaps the lord of the province and a few trusted associates, one might have found the lodgings of a servant, likely an elf or demihuman of some type to be found upon this primary floor, no doubt somewhere below the staircase or perhaps even in the cellar should the house posses one.

The town had remained that way for sometime, no doubt since the original settlers of the land had founded the quantity sea-side town some innumerable and long forgotten number of years ago, and still too went about their daily business in much the same way as their ancestors had. One would wake in the morning and head out to the markets where even by day break there was no doubt some large amount of business and bustling traffic going on, even for the small town. Those who had work to attend to, whether a forester or a serf working the lands, were no doubt on their way out and the vendors were eager to draw them into their stores and sell as much of their wares as they could. Elsewhere there were the large stands that were held by the farmers or their children who were looking to sell the housewives and maid of the town who would be busy created large dinners for the families that they would oversee that night, as it was the warm season in the southern lands and there was much work to do each day. Other place would look lively as countless people moved from their markets to the shore where several large rocks would stand, ready to allow many a sailor and fisherman to board their craft and set out of the day to hunt for fish and conduct other business upon the seas such as trade or even piracy, as it was after all, more of a backwater area and none would be too surprised to see that. Yet, things were different on this day. Though the sun still shines high in the sky and a soft breeze moved the hot air around the town ever so slightly as to give off the appearance of some refreshing singing gale, there was a different air all about. The people who moved upon the streets were merry, their hearts aflutter and their minds occupied with nothing, yet being full of daydreams all the same. The docks of the port were much more bustier than they had been in sometime, and it was not something that could simply be added up as that of the warm season and seas which had finally returned to the south, but rather was a matter of event. For one must see that not everything was the same as it had been for the seasons, both warm and cold that the small town had endured and remained standing tall, as they had received the most curious of visitors. In a town that was small and humble such as this, the arrival of any sort of visitor from a land that was not within the province was always some call to celebrate, of jolliness from the bartenders and shopper clerks and market works who all wished to show off their wares to the new visitor who no doubt would breath some manner of refreshment into the town, whether culturally or monetarily.

However, the visitors to the village upon this warm season were none they had ever seen. They walked the streets, and peaked into the various shops and galleries on their strolls; they bought fresh fruits and another manners of crops from the venders who sat around the intersection of the two great dirt roads of the town and they waved to the people of the town, no matter the houses they emerged from, as they walked along the man side streets that branched off the main roads. They too wore strange clothes that were foreign to the people who lived in the town and spoke with a mysterious tongue that was not easily understood by anyone in the town no matter the age or from which part of the province they hailed from. Yet, it wasn't the manner of the visitors which was truly interesting, but the aura they carried about them, which was in truth more of an aura tacked upon them by the villagers and townsfolk than anything else. Though this still brought forth the images of excitement and wonder each time one of the visitors would cross paths with those of the town, and it was a feeling that only grew louder as they spoke in their funny tongue or showed off some trinket they carried upon them. To be fair to the villagers, it was not misplaced feelings of a people that were isolated from the greater pleasures and wonders of the world in their small backwater hamlet, but was rather genuine curiosity for their guests that would no doubt be found in the reactions of anyone upon the lands, whether from those neighboring the province, or even those in the highest circles of wealth and stature that reside many miles away in land that was seemingly more foreign than the land their visitors had arrived from. These visitors may have appearance normal should one have looked at their faces, for they still wore the same design as many of the villagers and townsfolk. They're eyes and hair showed colors that were common and their faces held features that one could easily find on any uncountable number of people in the town itself. They're speaking was funny in someway, as it would seem they spoke some dialects of the same language as the townsfolk, but with mannerisms and pronunciations that would make it seem as if it was an older member of some province some distance away that rarely interacted with the one the town resided in, and it was as if this older neighboring man was attempting to speak to a younger child who had been raised on the newest way of speaking the town's own language. They seemed to laugh and grumble, shout and cry, just as the others in town would, yet they were held in a different light. Such was no doubt because of the great deeds they had performed in the town and the strange green clothes of which they seemed to never remove from their bodies while inside the town, as the people of the town were not always allowed nor usually bothered to look upon the places their guests had erected for themselves. Despite all, life continued to go on for the people of the town, their visitors minding their own business as they minded theirs.


----------



Off to the side of the town, just outside of the fringes were the servants, serfs and the lowest of the low, truly so as it was a backwater hamlet, there stood some strange manner of buildings all assembled with a precision that was lost upon the town, save for the two intersecting roads that cross each other as they stretched from North to South and East to West. It was a larger compound with a strange wall erected around the outskirts that was unlike anything that existed in the town or had been seen before by anyone who lived inside, as it was tall, taller than any of them, yet was filled with a large number of holes, easily allowing one to see within the borders of the walls. Yet, the wall remained steadfast and never wavered, even in the face of the harsh storms that threw the might of their gales upon it, only resulting in a sound similar to that of crossing swords being emitted from the bending though never breaking walls of this border. It was no doubt some type of metal, for it glistened and shined in the heart of the afternoon's sun and possess a silverish quality to it that was not so different from the iron and steel being forged upon the great furnaces of the blacksmiths workshops within the town. High upon the tops of these thing borders, for their were only but a few inches wide at the most, the links that formed the wall seemingly being small tubes of some sort, rested large curls of a thin metal that appeared almost paper like in its thinness, but which glistened in a much more intense light than that of the other materials of the border wall that had been erected. Though it was hard to tell the exact reason, these coils of metal were said to sting by the strange men in the green, and if one were to look closely, they could see small barbs extending from the curly wire that resembled the thrones one might find upon a berry bush in the forests or along the roads outside of the town itself. Seemingly the only gaps to those defensive wall could be found in the cardinal directions, much the same as the town, where rudimentary roads had been carved from the earth, though in a fashion that seemed superior to whatever methods used by the townspeople and villagers in the days gone by when the roads were initially constructed.

At these entrances to the areas the strange green mane called home there was small buildings that had been erected out of what appeared to be large blocks of some material they could not understand or grasp on the outside of a metal skeleton that was to hold it in it;s place and retain the shape of the object, which was a rectangle being longer one the vertical than of the hormonal. The objects themselves were around the small height as many of the Green Men, though perhaps they were a bit on the taller side, requiring one to jump or sand on a small step in order to see over the lip of one of the great grey barriers that formed the walls of these small buildings, which only opened upon the ways in and out of the Green Men's home and were on the side covered by large plants of wood accompanied by smaller bags of green, brown, and tan varieties that many of the townspeople had witnessed being filled with dirt for some reason by the Green Men and then placed upon the top of their structures and many times around them as well. Within each of the small buildings their remained a collection of Green Men, each one standing in a different place, acting as sentries it would seem, constantly scanning the outer limits of the compound they referred to as their home, no matter the time of day, seemingly possessing some capability to see into the draping darkness of the nights that befell the land like they were of some species of Demihuman whom possess similar abilities, though the Green Men looked the same as the townsfolk even when they removed their Green Clothes, as had been told by some of the townspeople who had entered the compound and been able to observe the actions and tendencies of their strange guests. Many told the tale of a smaller town which resided within the compound with rows upon rows of tents scattered about, yet all laid out in a careful manner that made traverse the grounds of the compound easy no matter how familiar one was with the lay out of such. Most of the smaller tents, no doubt being the homes of those Green Men who resided within the ground of the Compound, as it was frequent to see the Green Men lounging around in the small and cramped interiors, often chatting or playing some manner of strange games with one another that made use of smaller squares of paper with varying and interesting designs upon them, these games being a great point of interest for the townspeople who were granted permission to enter the compound, or attending to some other manner of business such as reading, sleeping, or some other hobby that could no be fully understood by the townspeople who entered and was without translation into the stories they told. Across the compound, for there was a large space of open ground where one would often find the Green Men seemingly doing training or exercises of some variety, were much larger tents with signs placed above them that no doubt indicated their use, but the scribbles of the Green Men's foreign language left it up to guessing for the townspeople. One tent was seemingly a dinning hall, for many a Green Man emerged with a plate of what could only be food, with interesting and foreign aromas spreading out from it like an invisible mist falling upon the entire compound and entrapping the nostrils of the townspeople. Another tent was seemingly a hospital of some kind, for it bore a large cross brazened in red upon the top of the entrance, in much the same manner as the symbols worn upon the first Green Men who had come to the rescue and began healing the injured of the town in their initial arrival. It was also the place of which the sick from the town were often taken by the Green Men, only to return a few days later in perfect health, or with strange objects wrapped around their limbs, which were hard to the touch and rigid, but which healed the bodies of the injured some time after and were easily cut off by the Green Men.

Though it seemed that night was the only time that the activity of the Green Men's compound slowed, and returned to some semblance and quietness, though sentries still remained and often a time there would be great beams of light piercing through the sky from large towers and fall upon the surrounding landscape where in those places the night was suddenly turned to day, for the most part it remained quiet and calm and there was little bother to the townspeople, even as they were not in a position to complain, yet upon this night or rather early morning things were inherently quite different than they had been before. In the large open air area of the compound, where not so many hours before it would have been common to find any number of Green Men loitering about or doing some form of exercises, there was but a simple semi-circle of the strange metal creatures upon which the Green Men rode, all of different sizes and shapes. There were small box looking ones with but four wheels and like all the others were completely without horses of any type to pull them, but they roared like some great dragon when they were boarded by the Green Men and released an awful burning smell that was found nowhere else in all the lands surrounding the province and no doubt pass the capital as well. The small box like beasts contained some four doors that opened up into a carriage light interior where there were seat present for a number of the Green Men to rest like some large carriage that was no doubt used by the nobility in the Capital. The side of the whole Metal Carriage were of some metal composite and had strange orbs positioned at the front which, like the might lights that circled the compound and those on the front of the other vehicles, shined brightly into the darkness of the night illuminating all that law some large manner of distance in front of them, namely the other vehicles. Behind boxed metal carriages rested a pair of metal wagons of a different color to that of the metal boxes, a darker green than even that of the clothes worn by the Green Men, the vehicles too being much taller and higher off the ground, possessing only two sets of doors which led into a cramped compartment in comparison to that of the Box-like Metal Carriages, yet possessed a large bed like that of a wagon which was covered in much the same say. These beasts roared in a much different tone to anything else, save for the large metal birds which sometimes circled overhead or flew far into the distance only to road back a moment of two later. The Metal Covered Wagons rested at the rear of the convoy, only leaving the forward vehicle, a singular metal beast that was different to either the Boxed or Covered Wagon. It was long and lead, with an angled but tubular body in comparison to that of the other two types of Metal Beasts resting in the open air area. The tubular beasts seemed to present no entrance to it's long and cramped cabin save for a singular door that could be seen out of the rear of the carriage. Upon the top of the long tubular body of the Metal Land-Ship rested a small box with a singular long tube of metal extending from it forward, and seemingly being able to move independent of the eight large wheels which supported the tubular body of the Metal Land-Ship.

To the side of the semicircle of metal beasts there stood a small collection of Green Men, fully dressed in their green clothes, though seemingly carrying more than was normally found upon them when they requested the grounds of the compound or even that of the town itself, though most of this extra weight was distributed upon their feet or seemingly placed within one of the many metal beasts which stood waiting, almost eagerly, for the men in green to approach and reside themselves to resting within their steely stomachs they called riding compartments. Despite being so early, a number of people had already gathered, perhaps around twenty in total from a quick scan over of the group, though it was equally likely there could be more or less than twenty, a smart man may have placed his money upon the idea that there were less of them in total. Some of the Green Men stood alone, seemingly busy with their own particular matters before they would board and depart with the metal beasts, while others stood around together no doubt chatting about all manner of topics, some relating to the journey they were no doubt about to take, while others were likely seemingly random ideas that is common among people to speak about regardless of the situation of the times. Off to one side, stood a man alone, off to himself, gazing up upon the sky and the many stars and celestial bodies that filled it, which had seemingly captivated the man's attention.

The man in question wore the same Green Clothes that all the others wore, though upon closer inspection of any one person's clothes it would be revealed that the clothes were simply a large gathering of many different colors, doting the cloth in seemingly random patterns like the spots on some great wild cat or that of a cow, though closer together than that of a cow. Upon his head rested a larger metal helmet that resembled a sort of bowl of some sort in one way or another, though the shape was irregular, being long on some sides and posing a small lip where a pair of what seemed to be over sized classes rested. On the man's chest there rested a piece of cloth that seemingly resembled the breastplate one might have found on a Knight or Guardsman in the Town, though it was seemingly not made of metal and was instead of a thick cloth that was rough and hard to the touch and decorated with all manner of smaller objects of the same cloth and color that varied from small pockets to large bags, in addition to other trinkets such as patches that read some manner of word in the Green Men's scribbles and a small black box attached to a curly black string that rested on his shoulder and extended down to a larger black box which rested in a small pocket just above where the man's left kidney should have been located if he was to be the same as the townspeople.

Upon his lower body rested a pair of pants in the same manner of colors and patterns as his shirt and the ends of which were tucked tightly into a pair of light tan boots which rose a fair few inches up his ankles. A pair of strings held from the mid part of the boot which rose of his ankles and were tied in a strange knot that seemingly held them in place. The material of the boots was foreign to the townspeople as well, for it was not the hides of animals, of which they would often make their own boots, but was of something different altogether, being able to bend and conform to the feet and ankles of the man with ease that they had no doubt never seen before. Looking past the uniform of the man, one could notice the features of the man partially lit up by the pale glow of the moon which was beginning to dip over the horizon to the far side of the camp, and would within the hour, no doubt be far out of sight behind the wall of trees. The man's face was worn with a strong bronze tan resting upon it, evident of many long days spent out under the watchfulness of a harsh sun shining down upon him, and it was not a color even lost upon his arms, showing past the portions exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his uniform, and down below the nap of his neck and upper back. The features of his face were hatchet like, sharp and worn out with lines of wrinkles upon his forehead and held a pair of piercing grey-blue eyes which shined like sapphire and looked about with a glare that could see straight through the thickest of fogs in the dead of night without a star upon the sky, though at the moment they seemed intent upon calling the bluff the universe and searching for all her secrets. The man's hair was short and conforming to the shape of his head, and in contrast to his skin which had been darkened by the sun, was a bright white variety, likely do to age and perhaps indicating, due to the richness of his sliverish-white hair that he was perhaps blond or salt-peppered colored once upon the day that had long since past. His gaze into the stars, however, was brought to a halt as the voice of a young man rang out through the air.

..Ladies and gentlemen. I will make this brief, we have a mission to get onto. Welcome to the 1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon. I am your platoon commander, 1st Lieutenant Micheal Graff, United States Marines. Welcome aboard. For my Marines, you know how we conduct things here. But for everyone else, we'll be going over it again. In this platoon, I make the shots. If you have an issue with how I call them, you talk to me afterwards. I expect nothing short of your unreserved willingness to comply, and motivation to complete any task I give properly. You can expect of me to be fair and firm in all my dealings with you, and to expect that I will never give you an order I would not carry out myself.

This is an important job. It is imperative that we keep our weapons safe and stick to the plan at all times. Our navigation is limited to that of compass and very rudimentary maps, so do not expect our navigation to be accurate." Pacing back and forth slightly, he stops before the convoy and regards the group. "..Call all your contacts, do not engage unless fired upon or cleared to do so. Report anything you find or see, so on.

..As for our mission- the time now is 0400 hours. At 0415, we will be stepping off. We will be following a road known as the 'Branch Road' that runs to our north and performing reconnaissance. We expect to encounter a small village sometime past noon, and we will be gathering information from the locals. We will receive updates as needed from headquarters here at Horizon, but do not expect to be returning here for some time. If you left something behind and want to fetch it before you go, now is the time.

Dismissed. Get your things ready and mount up. If you're not mounted by 15 past, you're getting left behind.


The voice that had called out to the others through the misty and dark night, though now illuminated by the large spotlights and stadium lights throughout the compound, much to the disappointment of the older star gazing man, was that of a First Lieutenant, in particular the one that would be leading the Platoon into the unknown world from the sound of it. Casting a look up towards the front of the row of vehicles, near the large MEtal Land-sHip one could easily make out the form of the Lieutenant against the green backdrop of the large tubular machine. The man wore a uniform that was identical to the others save for the name tag upon the front of it which no doubt had his name written out in the Green Men's scribbles upon his chest. The man's face was roughed up and worn, though far from the old leathery look at the older man portrayed, as the Lieutenant was a younger man, do doubt in his early twenties given his ranking. A pair of light green eyes which seemed to sit on the border of hazel rested within his more rounded and tan face that seeked out the face of every man and woman assembled before him, carefully studying each line of their face, their eyes and the way they stood in his presence, no doubt sizing up the force he was to lead. The Platoon had only been formed some two days prior and their had been little time for assembly as most still had other duties to attend to within their unit. The hair of the Lieutenant was hidden beneath the brim of his held which sat secured in place by a number of straps falling from the lip near his ears and wrapping around the man's chin, but no doubt was of some similar cut to the older man and those other men who stood waiting around the convoy. As for the position of the man, he had since removed himself from the position in front of the rest of the Platoon, seeing them off with a wave and resigning himself to whatever duties still awaiting his attention before the send off time in some ten minutes or so. The man seemed composed enough, and there were tinges of excitement lingering on his flood light lighten face that were difficult to hide, though it was no doubt a common occurrence for the younger guys in the Platoon, especially any that had not previously seen combat before this deployment of which they would soon embark upon. The Lieutenant, hovering near the forward vehicle of the convoy was seemingly checking his weapons among other things, as the Old Man dropped his rifle to the side on his sling and with a mighty groan, threw his pack upon his back for the short trek towards the lead vehicle.

Approaching the vehicle the Old Man quickly relieved himself his back, tossing it into the rear of the forward vehicle among a pile of other equipment, supplies and odds and ends, along with a long grey rode that seemed similar in style to the other weapons carried by the Green Men but was skinnier and lack the large square that stuck out below the bottom of their staves. Having deposited his gear the Old Man turned at once to the Lieutenant and in a gruff voice with a slight hint of a slow tang, released the simple word of Sir and exchanged a nod with the younger man before turning and heading back into the latter half of the semi-circle formed by the vehicles. Though perhaps introductions and discussion was in order, the pair would have plenty of time to deal with such on the road to the first checkpoint outside of the camp, and there was little need for the sharing of small talk in such a situation as was waiting for the go ahead to get en-route the objective. Instead the Old Man simply resigned himself to the area near the center of the convoy, resting his back against one of smaller vehicles, and taking in the sights as his pair of old light blue eyes slowly glided across the many faces of the Platoon that he would be serving with.
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Sterkistan
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1181
Founded: Jul 13, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Sterkistan » Fri Jul 05, 2019 3:28 am

Naval Station Horizon
CPO Ryan Packard, Royal Australian Navy
0350 LOCAL | 9 JUNE 2019



Ryan had been in and out of sleep until 0320, the uncertainty of the new world, combined with the waiting around hadn't been good for his sleep pattern. He got restless when he sat on his ass for too long, he needed to do something. He thought about their current predicament. They were in a completely unknown world, they had no GPS or satellite readouts, the nature of the world before them was a complete shadow. Apart from the fact that the technological development level of this world sat pretty neatly in the European middle ages. So honestly, it was pretty fucking exciting. It reminded Ryan of the first fleet, Captain Cook setting down on Australia and establishing the first colony.

Ryan rubbed his eyes as he stood up, shaking out his AMCU shirt and putting it on over his plain, black t-shirt. He might as well jog around the station for 15 minutes, get the blood pumping. He made a fair few laps of the station's interior before his watch buzzed, signalling his 15 minutes. He still had work to do.
Ryan came back to his gear at 0335, sitting down and grabbing his EOD ruck. He emptied the ruck onto the small table placed before him and pulled out his notebook. He flicked through, perusing the notes on the assessments of the civilians and local military forces. He did an assessment in his head, he should always assume the worst in his line of work. He should assume there are people in this world capable of making bombs, capable of laying them and capable of taking their lives.

Ryan went over the technology in his head; any IEDs in this world would need to be made of metal, he grabbed his metal detector and placed it beside him. He should assume that most explosives in this world would be made of black powder or alcohol, so he started to build his kit. He prepared pliers, wire strippers, a trowel and brush, a handheld detonator, and various other pieces of defusal equipment. He made the short walk over to the Ammo techs and got about 400 metres of det-cord, and a box of shaped disruption charges which included water-based and explosive
At 0350, he was done assembling his kit and had started collecting his combat gear, including his NVGs, and weapons. Making sure his name and unit badges were on his uniform. He was done by 0355, the rest of his kit had been put together the night prior. Thank god he did, he arrived with his platoon just in time for the briefing.

"..Ladies and gentlemen. I will make this brief, we have a mission to get onto. Welcome to the 1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon. I am your platoon commander, 1st Lieutenant Micheal Graff, United States Marines. Welcome aboard. For my Marines, you know how we conduct things here. But for everyone else, we'll be going over it again. In this platoon, I make the shots. If you have an issue with how I call them, you talk to me afterwards. I expect nothing short of your unreserved willingness to comply, and motivation to complete any task I give properly. You can expect of me to be fair and firm in all my dealings with you, and to expect that I will never give you an order I would not carry out myself." He gave a brief pause, and then continued.

"This is an important job. It is imperative that we keep our weapons safe and stick to the plan at all times. Our navigation is limited to that of compass and very rudimentary maps, so do not expect our navigation to be accurate." Pacing back and forth slightly, he stops before the convoy and regards the group. "..Call all your contacts, do not engage unless fired upon or cleared to do so. Report anything you find or see, so on."

"..As for our mission- the time now is 0400 hours. At 0415, we will be stepping off. We will be following a road known as the 'Branch Road' that runs to our north and performing reconnaissance. We expect to encounter a small village sometime past noon, and we will be gathering information from the locals. We will receive updates as needed from headquarters here at Horizon, but do not expect to be returning here for some time. If you left something behind and want to fetch it before you go, now is the time." Waving a hand, he stepped away from the formation with a nod. "Dismissed. Get your things ready and mount up. If you're not mounted by 15 past, you're getting left behind."


Ryan nodded toward Lieutenant Graff, whether the Lieutenant could see it or not wasn't the concern. Ryan briskly walked over to the box of shaped charges, hefting them up and carrying them toward the lead MTVR, fortunately, it was a short, wide box and fit inside easily. alongside the boxes of supplies.

Once the box was inside in an easily accessible spot, he made his way to where the team of Marines were waiting. Boy, this was going to be an experience.
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Legatia
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Legatia » Sat Jul 06, 2019 7:55 am


1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon
Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
9JUN19 0524 LOCAL- Exodus +5

1stLt Micheal Graff

Graff gave the Sergeant a quiet nod as he greeted him, himself on the way out of the LAV as he was on the way in. The rest of the platoon mulled about, loading rucksacks onto their respective vehicles. The Lieutenant casually greeted a few soldiers here and there, but focused primarily on making sure the provisions were loaded. While helicopter resupply was possible, they would be out for a while- and they never knew what come come knocking.

As 0410 rolled around, he gave the order to mount up. The LAV's engines roared back to life, the diesels of the MTRVs and Humvees growling between them as their headlights flicked back on. Helmeted heads popped up from the gun positions. He gave a glance to one corporal mounting the lead fifty, who gave the Lieutenant a cheeky grin as he chambered a round into the gun. Returning one in kind, he did a final walkaround of the vehicles before giving his Platoon Sergeant a nod of his head towards the rear LAV. Letting him load up first, he turned, and reviewed the base for a few seconds, before climbing up into the LAV and shutting the door. The barrier gates opened, and the lead vehicle revved its engine, beginning a roll along the dirt road.

As the vehicles rolled through the broad center street of Trisondil village, only a few- the fisherman, mainly- were stirring, giving waves and standing to stare as the convoy rolled through the town and onto the roads ahead. Houses came and passed, the streets quiet and dark beyond the rumble of their engines and the lights of their vehicles.

The drive was slow, being leaded and trailed by armored vehicles maxing out at 45 mph, and as the sun began to cast its rays of gold across the horizon and through the trees, the air began to warm from its cooler night-time temperatures. The soldiers in the lead LAV took the initiative, and popped open the doors, rifles at a ready resting position. While the MTVRs had no such option for ventilation, the Humvees could roll down their windows and enjoy the gentle warmth of the air rolling by their vehicle.

The Branch Road rolled through the farmland before it cut through the forests laying to the north. As it cut through the forest, the dirt of the road transitioned to a rough, well-used gravel surface, a constant crackling coming into ambience as the sun continued to illuminate the windy path ahead of them. The headlights switched off as the vehicles rolled through.

The forest was a decidious forest, the trees tall and old, their leaves browned gently from much sun and little rain and recent days. The wildlife here was markedly similar to that on earth- birds with feathers of greys, browns and ambers sat about the trees, their calls distinct as they blended with the gentle breeze swaying the trees. Alongside the trees, a fox ran with the convoy for a few seconds before darting off into the woods. The leaves and the branches swung softly in the early morning air, their brushing drowned by the heavy diesel engines of the platoon's vehicles.

The Lieutenant was fighting sleep when the LAV's commander tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir-" He handed him a phone receiver from the front LAV, a voice fizzing in.

"We've reached the edge of some town, sir. There are villagers gathering at the roadway to see us."

"..Push through and park on the outskirts in a defensive position. We'll dismount from here and see what we can learn." He nods, slowly leaning down and swinging out of the LAV as his boots crunched into the ground. As the men and women of the Platoon dismounted, curious eyes watched them- those of men and women, young and old, totally drawn by these strange people and their strange vehicles. Some would reach their hands out, but keep retract them fearfully as the Green Men dismounted.

"First Platoon, sit tight around the convoy. Anyone capable of trying to translate, try and get any information you can off of the locals." Graff gave a nod, before gesturing to the First Sergeant to follow him. He was intent on some information gathering, himself- even despite his lack of linguistics skills.



United States Navy
Strike Group Essex, Essex Amphibious Ready Group
USS Essex, LHD-2, 3nm offshore from Naval Station Horizon
9JUN19 0600 LOCAL- Exodus +5

CAPT Arthur Rogers

The life of a sailor was not one for everyone. Captain Rogers learned this the hard way during his own Plebe Summer at the Academy, so many many years ago, yet the sights and the sounds were still in his memory. The midshipman who threw up during his initial run, one time his friend nearly drowned during a swim, the time he was bedridden after his first real sail due to the sickness. But after that first bout with the sea, it instilled a sense of respect for it. Many mariners lacked that sort of respect- many more ended up dead because of it. A healthy respect for the sea was something he had learned in the fleet, something he was reminded of quite strongly when he realized he and his entire command was ditched where there was no help.

The Captain stared out the starboard-side window of his quarters. Perhaps a quarter mile out, he saw the sailors of the nearby Arleigh Burke-class destroyer moving about, one of them running maintenance on a shipboard gun. From the flightdeck on the other side of the ship, he heard the dull hum of a Super Stallion helicopter coming about to land, fresh from delivering supplies ashore. That same Super Stallion, he knew, was scheduled to take him ashore. He, along with a few other officers- notably the MEU's command staff, and some officers from his own amphibious group- would be inspecting the situation ashore for the first time since its establishment. Stepping from his quarters dressed in a camouflage working uniform, he was greeted at the door by a similarly dressed Ensign, who gave him a ready salute. "Good morning, Sir! Ensign Roberts reporting."

"..Morning, Roberts." The warm voice of the Captain returned, regarding the preppy young Ensign with a smile. "..Did you grab the weapon I asked for?"

"Yes, sir." The Ensign offered a holstered M9 pistol to the Captain, who moved to strap it to his thigh.The Ensign followed as he moved down the hallways, quickly cleared of roaming enlisted and other officers, stepping aside with salutes and "Good Mornings" to the man. Walking down balconies and onto the flightdeck, the Ensign rather rapidly lost the his hat to the rotorwash. Moving to dash for it but halting midstep, he was shocked as a deck officer grabbed it, and returned it to him with a smirk.

"..That'll teach you to properly secure that cover, Ensign." Roberts remarked with a small smile, the Ensign returning an embarassed one to him. Stepping forward, the Marine crew chief crouched at the entrance to the bird stood and offered a crisp salute to the Captain. As a gaggle of other officers filed in or milled about, already loaded into the helicopter, the chief stepped back as the ramp door shut. He could hear the power of the thing's engines as it roared into the skies, departing straight-out from Essex towards land. The flight was only perhaps two minutes long, as the helicopter made a landing at a makeshift landing zone right outside the small village, Marines with lightsticks waving the bird to a gentle turn and touchdown.

Waving to the assembled officers, Rogers nodded for the lower-grade personnel to depart as a squad of Marines, standing firm and ready with patrol caps and carbines, stood ready to guard the group of officers. Rogers would set the pace as the group walked into Trisondil. The village thronged as it usually did- Essex's fleet simply kept its many eyes upon the activities of the fishers, anchored well clear of both their local and distant fishing grounds. At some points in the village, groups of Marines stood guard, offering salutes as the officers passed. A few minutes into the walk, the pace slowed, as Rogers began to speak.

"..Today, as it comes, marks 5 days since our arrival in this world." He started, turning a gentle corner. "..We've got quite a lot done in these five days. The Trust Territory's been formally established, thanks to Major Tavern. I'm looking forward to hearing his plans regarding the planned administration of this region, in addition. Major, I also want to know our plans for supplementing our supplies with local resources. Wood fuel, local produce, whatever possible. In addition, Major.. I want the feasibility explored and sites planned for a small runway as an addition to the Naval Station. Long enough to land our 35s on in a conventional configuration. A good few thousand feet of hardened soil will do, we can't be wasting concrete." Turning a corner, he nodded at a passing Marine and continued.

"As far as our medical situation goes, Commander, I'd like to know the status of our crew still injured and a total death count from the Storm. We haven't lost any ashore yet, so keeping track should be got on top of before this gets to be a larger issue."

"And do any of you all have any questions regarding any of our ongoing operations?" He would close with a turn of his hand, waiting to hear the response. "Now would be the time to ask."




Empire of Corleans
Order of the Camellia
Order Encampment, Sivalian Plains
9th Suncrest, 6A-111- Before Sunrise

Crown Princess Cordelia Augurena

The lofty standard of the Order of the Camellia waved above the small camp as two or three fires gave smoke off into the early morning. The encampment of 60 knights was not a large one- many of their number shared tents and fires- but it was filled with character, many sitting around their fires as stews and soups cooked for an early morning breakfast. Beyond the makeshift walls, their horses kicked impatiently, knowing that as the sun neared to rise, so too would the day's journey start.

One of the few who had her own tent, the Crown Princess of the Empire rose as ungracefully as anyone could expect. Out of all the facets of her knightly raising, she had never gotten used to the Order's affinity for unusually early mornings. She summoned her own squire, a blonde girl of fifteen, as she sat on a camp stool before a tiny, portable mirror made of shined steel. Handing the Princess her armor, she was able to dress with little issue, though she left the plates for her riding boots and the armor above her waist for later. She intended to eat as well before the group departed, and she exited the tent in this minimalist armored fashion, clutching a rather thick scroll in her left hand.

Her fellows turned to greet her- not with a rigid greeting that would befit her noble stature, but with a more casual "Good morning, Princess", or "Lady-Commander". After she had fought and bled with the knights of her Order on the field, and sufficiently earned their trust and respect, she felt confident to be able to speak on casual terms to her small group.

"Did you all sleep well?" Her first question, as she sat down, accepting a mug of spiced wine from a girl to her right.

"As well as we usually do." A small snicker went across the group, the young eyes of the knights gleaming in the early morning fire. Cordelia returned a smile, enjoying the company she had. "..As for you?"

"I slept quite well last night. Thank you." She took a sip, resting the mug back down after. "..This is quite good." She smiles, as a kitchenmaid hands her a bowl of gruel, filled with small chunks of chicken and potatoes, and some vegetables scattered through the mix. Resting the bowl on her knee, the chatter continued.

"Princess, do you know anything more about this 'Grey Fleet' that we are being sent towards?" One girl, freshly knighted only a month ago, piped up. Cordelia turned with a sigh, shaking her head.

"..We haven't heard anything more than hearsay. All of the rumors that have reached the Court are impossible. 25 mounted knights cut down in seconds, metal beasts filling the sky. We believe that most of these rumors are highly exaggerated, and the threat is not something insurmountable, of course.. but I would not make judgement calls before I have solid information."

A quiet musing went around the group, before another one spoke. "What do you think it is, then?"

"..My information's not good enough for me to make any solid guess, but I have a feeling that this may be more than what some may bargain for." Putting away the rest of her food, she stood up. "Come on, you all. Finish up and break camp down. We've got a day's ride ahead of us, and quite a while until we reach the next town."

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Amarian Union
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 23
Founded: Jun 24, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Amarian Union » Sat Jul 06, 2019 9:55 am

*Ravens eyes would scan the locals and the surroundings, her rifle slung over her shoulder as she would remain near the convoy and the locals. She would remain quiet, not saying a world and keeping her thoughts to herself. She would see the hand of a young girl lower itself as she would fearfully gaze at Raven then lower her head. Raven would slowly approach the girl quietly, the civilian stepping behind what would appear to be her mother. However, Raven would reach into her pocket and would offer something to the child, kneeling down to her. She would remain silent, though offering a small smile along with the wrapped chocolate bar. The child would take it slowly and would look it at curiously before tugging at the plastic wrapping. Raven would chuckle, helping the small child unwrap it. The child then would smile, beginning to eat at the chocolate bar gleefully.

Raven would stand back up, the child saying thank you in the native language. Despite knowing none of it, Raven would nod with a smile and turn around, looking at the other civilians in the crowd and staying near the convoy.

“Should’ve worn my PT belt.” Raven would jokingly think to herself, the smile slowly fading as she would look around the crowd. “Would’ve intrigued the locals...”

Raven would look at her fellow Marines.

“Just remain quiet and you won’t have to deal with anything...” Raven would think to herself. “Do what you’re told, don’t even utter a single word...”

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Hansdeltania
Diplomat
 
Posts: 830
Founded: May 17, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Hansdeltania » Sat Jul 06, 2019 12:41 pm

1st Lieutenant Jack "Solo" Nguyen, United States Marine Corps
Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 211 "Wake Island Avengers" (VMFA-211)
Strike Group Essex, USS Essex (LHD-2)
9 June 2019
0612 local time


Jack sat alone in the pilot's ready room, drinking a mug of fresh coffee with a large dollop of vanilla soft-serve ice cream at the bottom. He stared off at nothing in particular, occasionally glancing down at the white ceramic mug emblazoned with Marine Fighter Attack Squadron 211's patch and "SOLO" in black sans-serif font.

On the table in front of Jack was his kit—a green aircrew survival vest with a knife and two 17-round magazines hidden somewhere, a helmet that cost more than his house when he lived in San Jose, and a tan nine-millimeter sidearm with the safety on underneath the pile.

Honestly, I'm kinda glad I brought my computer with me, he thought to himself while sipping his coffee. At least I can play some Ace Combat 7 while I'm stuck here.

He lifted his mug to his lips again. Nothing came out. He sighed as he poured half a mug's worth of coffee back in to rinse out the cream and sugar from the soft-serve before chugging down the coffee rinse. Jack grabbed a paper towel and dampened it, cleaning the rim before putting it back to its spot on the mug rack.

Jack was one of the first pilots off Essex when they magically appeared somewhere near what was now the Trust Territory, flying a solo reconnaissance run at three thousand feet. This, combined with small drones launched from Essex's escorts, provided less than detailed maps of the surrounding territory up to about seventy nautical miles away from Naval Station Horizon.

Jack put on his helmet as he went to the flight deck and approached his F-35. The plane captain handed Jack a clipboard for him to sign the plane out, followed by the checklist as Jack began his preflight inspection.
The number of Ace Combat references I have is too damn low!

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Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States
P2TM RP Mentor
 
Posts: 17192
Founded: Feb 20, 2012
Democratic Socialists

Postby Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States » Sat Jul 06, 2019 2:04 pm

1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon
Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
9JUN19 0524 LOCAL- Exodus +5

Alpha Sgt. Maria Gutierrez

Road trip. Maria sighed deeply as she looked at the front LAV, their designated piggyback ride into their mission. She hated LAV hops, if only because the things had no windows. She wasn’t a claustrophobe, but suffering a bit from car sickness, she liked to see where she was going. She liked to have at least a semblance of control, rather than sitting in an hour-long teleport that you entered somewhere, and which shat you out somewhere entirely different. It was like crewing a submarine, but seemingly unnecessary.

“Alright, Alpha Squad, saddle up! Packard, Hawkins, Bauer, Newman, Imada, let’s go!” She shouted. Her voice carried far in the morning air, as foggy mornings always tended to do. She waited for a moment until her squad had embarked, choosing for herself a spot close to the door. A tactical choice, but also a personal one. Both as a sergeant and a person, she wanted to be the first one out once the LAV came to a halt.

“Imada, you take a place next to me” Gutierrez added, snapping her finger at the girl. She held no particular ill will towards the girl, but Imada was incredibly introverted. She almost never spoke, so while Gutierrez had at least a little bearing of each of her team members, Raven Imada was still a mystery to her. It didn’t help that her file was incredibly short and lacked any detail. She needed to keep an eye on her, and to keep her close was the best way of doing that.

After checking if the entire squad had embarked and doing a last head count, Gutierrez hopped into the LAV herself. The vehicle growled and rumbled into motion, the whole loading bay filled with the noise of a Detroit Diesel engine. Once Maria closed the door they were basically shut off from the outside world. Nothing but the sound of the grinding gear shift and the sudden feeling of disembodied motion brought to their attention that the LAV had gotten underway. Immediately, Gutierrez began to feel sick in her stomach, the early morning and the lack of fresh air immediately getting to her.

The next few… minutes? Half-hours? It was hard to keep track of time, especially as Maria didn’t want to look down at her watch to check. She felt her breakfast stirring in her stomach, and felt that any head movement would bring it up. And there was nothing worse than a soldier throwing up in a closed LAV. She breathe heavily, periodically checking out what the soldiers attached to her platoon were doing. With every bump in the road (and those were many and not far in-between) her stomach began to turn, and she had to do her very best to keep it all down. After a while, she’d had quite enough of it.

“Corporal! How’s the temperature out?” She called to the man manning the fifty on top of the LAV. From the gunner’s position she could hear a quickly reply.

“Sun’s just out! Air’s nice, you can try to pop open the…”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence. With a quick pull of the latch and a swift kick the doors of the LAV swung open, allowing the luke-warm morning air to rush through the loading bay. Gutierrez felt immediate relief wash over her, partially because of the fresh air and partially because she now had somewhere to throw up towards if push came to shove.

Watching the world outside was like a second breath of fresh air. To their left, they could see the sun slowly rising over the distant forests, the sky turning from dark blue to a soft pink. The sun reflected orange against the distant clouds, with its light slowly cooking the dew off of grassy fields now covered in a thin layer of mist. The cuckoo so usual in the mornings on Earth was not there. Instead, other early birds chirped their strange songs. A pheasant made a run between the LAV and the truck behind it, disappearing into the underbrush on the other side of the road. A young fox ran with the convoy for a bit before disappearing again, leading Maria to produce a faint smile.

“They have not learned to fear us yet…” she muttered. The thought made her happy, but also a bit afraid. After all, what did the peasants know that that fox did not? Her thoughts were scrambled when she was interrupted by the cheeky corporal at the fifty.

“Sergeant, we’re coming up on habitation. There’s folks gathering in our way…”

“Call up the lieutenant” Maria responded. She heard the corporal and the LAV commander communicating, before the international communication was picked up.

“We've reached the edge of some town, sir. There are villagers gathering at the roadway to see us” the LAV commander relayed to the other armoured vehicle in the back. There was a moment of silence before the commander responded.

“Yes, sir. Will do” he said, before hanging up the phone.

“Alright, ladies and gents, you’re getting off!”

Thank god, Maria thought quickly. As the vehicle came to a halt she got out, landing with both feet firmly in the dry dirt. It had not rained for days, and the roads were dusty dry. She took a moment to adjust to the low sun, and quickly began barking orders.

“ALRIGHT PEOPLE, DISMOUNT!” she shouted. With her right hand firmly on the pistol grip of her rifle she began using her left hand to direct her squad. As expected, they got out quickly, quite eager to see what this new town was about.

“Newman, keep yourself a bit back, please. Bauer, I want you to scope out the surroundings, see if the coast is clear. Imada, you’re with me, I want you close by. Hawkins, you’re on speaking duty, see what info you can get from the villagers. Oh, and please keep your hands to yourself, I don’t want to see you hitting up the village chief. And if anyone sees a few sticks of dynamite strapped to an old-timey alarm clock, don’t forget to call Packard” she said, adding a cheeky wink in Packard’s direction once she had done so.

As her team went to work, Maria got a little piece of paper from her breast pocket. With pencil, she had written up a few sentences in the local language, in such a way that made pronunciation easier. These people could not read the latin alphabet anyway, so there was no use in trying to keep grammatical accuracy. Some sounds were underlined, meaning the stress was supposed to be on that part of the word, as the language experts of the mission had assured her. It was incomplete, she probably had the worst accent, and people would only get half the words she was saying. Luckily, they were not in a position to laugh at her, and at least she was trying.

“Remember, Alpha: Keep a lookout for people who look healthy. Clean and healthy people are suspect immediately, I want you to report them at once. Don’t aim your muzzle at someone unless you intend to kill, they won’t know that it is supposed to be a threat. Fix your bayonet if things get threatening.”

Before she knew it, Imada was out among the villagers, handing out chocolate to a child. The gesture was heart-warming, and it certainly came from a good place, but Maria could not help but disapprove. As Imada came back, Gutierrez gave her a short remark.

“I’d keep that t yourself, Imada. They don’t trust us yet, they might very well think we’re trying to poison them. Besides, don’t teach a kid to take gifts from strangers”

After scarping her throat a few times, Maria felt ready to try her luck at addressing some of the people gathered in the crowd. She tried to make eye contact, but she had to read from her own notes a lot, and it was kind of hard to look at faces who knew you were completely butchering their language.

“Good afternoon people, do not have afraid. We come with peace, not with hurt. We are Green Men from the Grey Fleet. We would be thanks to mens and womens with knowings on would be help to us. You are now of the protection of the Green Men and the Corlean Loaned Lands”
Last edited by Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States on Sat Jul 06, 2019 2:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The name's James. James Usari. Well, my name is not actually James Usari, so don't bother actually looking it up, but it'll do for now.

Lack of a real name means compensation through a real face. My debt is settled


Part-time Kebab tycoon in Glasgow.

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Ormata
Senator
 
Posts: 4021
Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Sat Jul 06, 2019 4:38 pm

Warden Kiles & Sienne

They’d moved through the village with little issue, picking up whatever supplies could be had and discussing with the locals whatever they might have seen about the Grey Fleet. Little was known by the people, who had only heard the screams in the distance and such thought that the dragon that had been peering about the coastline had decided to move inward. For the most part, Trevvly had gone underground in their little basements and cellars, the church fortified with many months of foodstuffs and alcohol, which would not become infested with time. Kiles was impressed on the whole, the decisive nature of the village elder being an odd thing all things considered. There were few to have made such a decision so early on, when so little was known. But strangeness was coming, he had to agree, strangeness and strange men.

They had moved on farther south along the road, down and down into a town called Tanuri . It wasn’t a remarkably important place save for the fact of it’s location; that town was also dangerously close to the Grey Fleet. Booted feet padded down the road before they saw what there could be in the distance. There was smoke, grey smoke that wasn’t rising from the chimneys, nor from any fire unless they had decided to set one in the road. No rapid bell came from their church, though, so...a fire was out of the question.

“Sienne. The birds.”

She nodded to him and in a way to herself, walking to the side of the road and crouching down against the dirt. A twig was produced from the ground and the little elf started to draw runes there. It was a simple enough incantation, one that drew power from mother earth herself, one that took the energy in movement from the natures about it. The weeds nearby wilted, greying with their green, and the grass seemed to go a little yellower. It was a signal, a calling to that about oneself, a call to the birds to see, to hear, to know. It was a simple enough rune, a simple enough incantation she muttered under her breath before producing the small little knife Sienne kept. The world about it had power, true, but it was slow power, time-tested power, the power of a slow-running stream and a massive oak, built over the centuries. It was slow. It needed some of the faster flows, the energy of the flight and the war, of the line held and the determination to build cities from swamps. It needed more to jump start the symphony that lay there in the dirt.

Sienne had hestitated before. She barely hesitated now. Just a little prick on the tip of the finger as red dewdrops formed, the elf dropping them down and down into the grooves of the rune. Kiles watched, watched because this was the culmination of his work, because this was...well, this was something. A deep little sense of pride swelled in his chest, the pride of a teacher with a capable pupil, the pride of a fa- no, no. No, that wasn’t right. No that couldn’t be right. The Warden shook it away as the thin, soft little tunes of the words of power drifted through the air from Sienne, watching the town in the distance. Nothing there seemed off and yet...

“Nothing. No birds...wait, wait. There’s one.”

Sienne muttered to herself, feeling a little bit of concern that she’d messed the rune up, that one line was straight when it should be crooked, that another was crooked when it should be straight, that perhaps her will to make it work hadn’t been enough or that she hadn’t put enough power into the spell to overcome the jagged lines of the circle. Panic rushed to her veins and heart, a little heavier there, but the girl took a deep breath. Remember, she said, remember and remember. Remember that spell is all about emotion, that if she wasn’t calm the whole thing would topple down into nothing, wasted away by the power that now flowed within the dirt lines.

She felt it grow closer, the magic as though a line at the end of a fishing pole moving like a strand, closer and closer, speeding and speeding until it hurt against her fingers and head. Sucking on her finger, Sienne saw the target of her attempt, the end result of it all. It was a lithe little hummingbird, a quick fellow who kept on his movement, darting one way then the next as he assessed her as one might a flower. Then the bird spoke, though for obvious statements this was not at all aloud. Rather, he spoke into her mind and, by extension, Kiles’s mind as well, and his voice was as high as a tower, as fast as his wings, and to put plainly he simply did not stop as though he needed a breath. The words were merely an interpretation of a thought that came in a second and as such took up nearly that same space of time.

“Well, you’re not what I expected. Thought I’d find another old coger who needed a subject for a sketch. Last one paid me in a dozen flowers!”

“That village, in the distance, “ Sienne motioned with her head. “What happens there?”

“Strange men in strange moving little houses. They rumble and roar like that one landslide, the one that buried the house with the strange kind little widow who one gave me a whole pile of sugar for my birthday! Of course it wasn’t my birthday really, but did she have to know that I think not! We all scattered from the strange men in strange moving little houses. Not sure what it is not sure if I want to know what it is if you know what I’m sure you think I’m talking about. If you are.”

“Strange men in...the foreigners. They’re in Tanuri.” Kiles said to himself aloud, nodding as he looked back over to the smoke rising up from the village.

“If that’s what you want to call it go right ahead. All I know is that it’s the place with the mean little twat of a child who one time tried to catch me all the while saying he was going to pull my wings off and roast me, the little boar! Of course he didn’t but I had the dog lay on him for two hours and by all the gods of the forest it was a laugh! Squirming there like a helpless little-“

“The strange moving houses, was there smoke rising from them?”

The hummingbird paused, staring at Kiles for a good, long five seconds and actually staying still as he hovered. It was as though to make a point that the little guy really was in control.

“-cub. And yes, yes there was. Smelled something awful too, not sure what. Couldn’t place it. Now, have I just wasted my time or am I going to get-“

“Pay him, Sienne.”

“Of course,” she replied, delving into her pouch and producing a glass of sugar. Sienne poured some out into her hand, a little pile rising up like a hill, before proffering it to the informative bird. He immediately went at it without another word, greedily eating away while being somewhat considerate of the fact that she was actually hand-feeding him. Stabbing someone’s hand who is paying you is a great way to get slapped after all. Without another word he zoomed away, speedy from the recent burst of energy.

“Well. We’ve found them. Come on.”

With that, the pair started to continue walking down the road, intent to meet the newcomers to Corleans.
Last edited by Ormata on Sat Jul 06, 2019 4:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Sterkistan
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1181
Founded: Jul 13, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Sterkistan » Sun Jul 07, 2019 6:33 am

Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
CPO Ryan Packard, Royal Australian Navy
0524 LOCAL | 9 JUNE 2019



Ryan managed to find himself a half-decent seat in the rear seat of a Humvee. He hadn't actually ridden in one in years, so it was a nice change. He rolled the window down, surveying the landscape as the sun began to creep over the horizon. It was tranquil, homes were mostly condensed to villages, so there were extensive areas of sprawling green landscape. The trundling of the dirt road brought him a little discomfort, he was practically fresh from Iraq, where every bounce or bump could be a sign there was a 60-pound drum full of homemade explosive sitting under your feet.

Ryan quickly reeled his thoughts in, with the tech level they were facing there were no conventional, ready-made explosives like in their world. He should wait until they actually hit one to get worried. So he relaxed himself a bit, deciding to take in the humid morning air. Only to let out a sigh when their convoy began to slow, he poked his head out the window. They'd hit the next town and Ryan's boots were hitting the ground as soon as the order to disembark was called.

He looked over toward the group of natives gathering around their convoy, they were a varied group, up surprisingly early. Though he supposed the rumbling engines would have woken anything in these quiet times. He kept his gun low, but ready should a threat rise.

Ryan raised his hand toward the collecting group of natives, alongside a,
"G'day."



Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
Jeane Elicia
Sunrise, 9th Suncrest, 6A-111



Jeane awoke with a yawn, sitting up as she let the scent of stew fill her nose and the crackling of fire fill her ears. She peeked out her window as she rubbed her eyes looking out at her adoptive father, kneeling over the fire at the back of the library, stirring a pot.
"Good morning papa." She spoke in her native tongue.

Rainald struggled to his feet, the army hadn't been kind to his knees and old age wasn't helping. He may have only been in his 50s but he hobbled around like an old goat.
"Finally awake I see, get dressed and do your morning practice. Stew will be done by then."

Jeane nodded enthusiastically, throwing herself out of bed and quickly changing. Both her room and Rainald's were connected to the library, as well as a small living area that had been converted into their workroom. They certainly weren't rich, but she didn't mind. An endless supply of books was a pretty good living incentive.

She scooped her staff off the bench, heading out the front door and looping around to the side of the building. She would work on her magic until breakfast, and then she would work until closing. She traced her fingers along the staff, channelling the boundless energy that flowed through the air around her, light chants filled the morning air as she changed the motion of the wind. Magic was less harnessing the power and more borrowing it. She practised lifting and dropping various objects. Still unable to lift the three heaviest objects. Jugs of water of various sizes, the lightest of the three around 10 litres.

Jeane was about to start practising her small collection of offensive moves when she heard a curious sound. A deep, low rumble that increased in volume until it was like a symphony of explosions going off one after the other. She feared a swarm of dragons had come inland in a hunt for food. But there was no fire, no scaled beast snapping at their homes and loved ones. She walked out into the street, her staff clutched in her hands. There was a mysterious smoke from the end of the trail, at the village entrance. Her neighbours had already emerged to inspect the commotion and she couldn't see through the growing crowd.

If people were gathering, it had to be safe right! She half-ran toward the end of the road. Rainald emerging from the spot Jeane once stood. Shouting at her to stay away from the mysterious gathering. Jeane ignored him, pushing her way through the crowd to be confronted with the sight of the Green Men. She heard stories of their existence, but didn't think it possible!
She giggled with excitement, what a find! She had to document everything, from their uniforms to their steel carriages and strange handheld contraptions. One of them was attempting to converse with the group, their pronunciation sloppy and broken. But the message was at least half-clear.

She stepped forward from the group, right up to the Green Man attempting to converse, looking, what was visibly a she, up and down. Even touching her uniform, it's fabric thin and less coarse than the garb she, and the others around her wore.
"Greetings, I am Jeane, this is the village of Tanuri. We welcome you!"
She spoke as naturally as possible, purposely using larger words. She had to hear their native tongue, as Corlean clearly was not it.
This Nation does not use NS Statistics, because they suck ass.
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Rupudska
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Posts: 20386
Founded: Sep 16, 2010
Scandinavian Liberal Paradise

Postby Rupudska » Sun Jul 07, 2019 5:36 pm

Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States wrote:1st Composite Reconnaissance Platoon
Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
9JUN19 0524 LOCAL- Exodus +5

Alpha Sgt. Maria Gutierrez

“Newman, keep yourself a bit back, please. Bauer, I want you to scope out the surroundings, see if the coast is clear. Imada, you’re with me, I want you close by. Hawkins, you’re on speaking duty, see what info you can get from the villagers. Oh, and please keep your hands to yourself, I don’t want to see you hitting up the village chief. And if anyone sees a few sticks of dynamite strapped to an old-timey alarm clock, don’t forget to call Packard” she said, adding a cheeky wink in Packard’s direction once she had done so.

“Good afternoon people, do not have afraid. We come with peace, not with hurt. We are Green Men from the Grey Fleet. We would be thanks to mens and womens with knowings on would be help to us. You are now of the protection of the Green Men and the Corlean Loaned Lands”


Sergeant Ginger Hawkins resisted the urge to snicker at her sergeant lead's butchered attempt at the local language. She really did. Not everyone was as good at learning languages as she was, after all, and Maria Gutierrez was definitely not one of them. In the grand scheme of things, it probably wasn't a big deal, not with English spreading like the black plague via the Internet.

However, this world had no internet, television, radio, phones, and maybe even printing press, so Sergeant Gutierrez butchering the local language like a pig for barbecue just wasn't going to cut it. She tried to be fancy with her words, which was a common mistake. Ginger didn't know much more than Maria, but she knew enough about other languages to know how to more easily hide that fact.

She held up a hand. "With all due respect, Sergeant," she said in the typical Ozark twang that refused to leave her, "y'all should probably do what the lieutenant said and let a linguistic expert deal with translation. You sound like a robot."

Sterkistan wrote:[She stepped forward from the group, right up to the Green Man attempting to converse, looking, what was visibly a she, up and down. Even touching her uniform, it's fabric thin and less coarse than the garb she, and the others around her wore.
"Greetings, I am Jeane, this is the village of Tanuri. We welcome you!"
She spoke as naturally as possible, purposely using larger words. She had to hear their native tongue, as Corlean clearly was not it.


Ginger returned the bow, going a little deeper than Jeane did.

"Greetings, Jeane from Tanuri. I am [Ginger Hawkins]. Please take us to [smart/wise/elder] man or [smart/wise/elder] woman in charge of [village/town]."
The Holy Roman Empire of Karlsland (MT/FanT & FT/FanT)
THE Strike Witches NationState
Best thread ever.|SPACE!
MT Factbook/FT Factbook|Embassy|Q&A
On Karlsland Witch Doctrine:
Hladgos wrote:Scantly clad women, more like tanks
seem to be blowing up everyones banks
with airstrikes from girls with wings to their knees
which show a bit more than just their panties

Questers wrote:
Rupudska wrote:So do you fight with AK-47s or something even more primitive? Since I doubt any economy could reasonably sustain itself that way.
Presumably they use advanced technology like STRIKE WITCHES

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Amarian Union
Lobbyist
 
Posts: 23
Founded: Jun 24, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Amarian Union » Sun Jul 07, 2019 7:23 pm

*Raven would pay no attention to the Sergeants, scanning the crowd with her eyes as she would remain in a semi-alert posture. The girl she had given chocolate to earlier would wipe her face clear of chocolate, offering a nod of the head and a smile to Raven before Raven would wave to her and smile as well.

“Very curious and well-mannered folks.” Raven would think to herself, remaining in her silence as she would stay a distance away from Gutierrez but close enough to do as she was told to when they dismounted earlier. She would look to the other Marines, keeping tabs on who was where before going back to observing the local people crowding the area.

“So far, so good.” She would think, remaining quiet and keeping her eye out for possible threats despite the possibility of threats being low in an instance like this.

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Mediama
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Posts: 280
Founded: Jun 20, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Mediama » Mon Jul 08, 2019 12:41 am

Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
June 9th, 2019: 0535


True to her orders, Cass had kept relatively to the rear of the squad. She understood of course, in her line of work, the last thing the squad needed was their medic to get wounded, or worse. However, from her perspective, they haven’t encountered anything dangerous so far.

In fact, since the first battle (she couldn’t truthfully say battle, it was more of a massacre), she had noted that they had encountered, few, if any resistance.

Nevertheless, once they dismounted Cass kept herself relatively to the back. They didn’t get far though, currently, the squad leaders were talking with one of the natives, she couldn’t make out what they were saying, much less understand it, but given the briefing, it was possibly the “take me to your leader routine.” She couldn’t help but smile at that, instead of being on the receiving end, they were the aliens saying it. In her time walking around and pacing the area though, she noticed how some of the marines were interacting with the natives, trying to answer their every question, and trying to keep them away from the more dangerous items, especially the elephants in the room, their guns.

Being the shy girl she was, and given that she was ordered to keep to the rear, she had little interaction with some of the natives. For the rare times she did, she’d give a gentle pat to the head, and did her best to answer any of the questions some of the more brave and curious had.

Eventually though, she couldn’t help but spot some movement in the distance. Something was coming towards them. It was strange though, a man and a girl with odd looking ears. They fit the description of what their squad leads wanted though, while the girl was a little more dirty, the man was clean, still a little dirty from traveling, but cleaner than the townspeople.

Her instincts knew she should alert the leads to their oncoming presence as they moved closer, but she couldn’t help but narrow her focus on the girl.

If she didn’t know any better from her body language, she was tense, maybe a little frightened and depressed. Something didn’t seem quite right.

She should know, she went through something similar before.

And so she stood there, staring at the pair with a curious, yet meek and shy stare.
Last edited by Mediama on Mon Jul 08, 2019 12:52 am, edited 1 time in total.
Basically, Canada with Naboo style royalty and more British. My supposed foil and puppet nation is Consertoria


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Sterkistan
Ambassador
 
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Founded: Jul 13, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Sterkistan » Mon Jul 08, 2019 4:36 am

Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
Jeane Elicia
Sunrise, 9th Suncrest, 6A-111



The short break between the first green man speaking, and the second following on allowed Jeane to catch some of their language. She repeated the words in her head, mainly 'Saar-gent', 'Loo-ten-ant', and 'Lin-gwi-stick'. She mulled over the words in her head briefly, she wasn't familiar with their sentence structure, but they could have been titles. They sounded military enough, and the natural emphasis on the way the words were spoken indicated a title of some kind. Perhaps they were nobles?

Jeane was quickly pulled from her thinking by the other green man speaking to her, their Corlean was fairly basic but much less fragmented than the other green man's attempt.
"Uh, yes, yes, I believe the elder is coming, right as we speak..."

She didn't have long until Rainald came over, so she bit the bullet, it was now or never to try her hand at their language. She picked one of the three words she was mulling at random. She started in Corlean,
"It is nice to meet you." Before taking a breath;
"Loo-ten-ant J-Jin-jer Haw-kins."



Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
PO Ryan Packard, Royal Australian Navy
0524 LOCAL | 9 JUNE 2019



Ryan had lowered his hand and gone back to surveying when he saw their Medic's eyes had wandered and were focusing on something. He followed her gaze along and saw the two strangers walking toward them in the distance. One was short and dirty, but the other; tall, fit, clean. All the things to look out for.

He turned toward the team medic,
"Looks too clean to be a local... Reckon we take a gander?"

Regardless of her answer, his next action would be telling the boss about it. But he decided to be polite, give her a choice.
This Nation does not use NS Statistics, because they suck ass.
A 3.6 civilization, according to this index.
Time Period: Anytime bb
Tech: FT
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Auropa
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 482
Founded: Jan 07, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Auropa » Tue Jul 09, 2019 11:52 pm

Rohan Borth
Sivalian Plains
Sunrise, 9th Suncrest, 6A-111


Flying through the air and passing between the soft, rising plumes of smoke, a large falcon soared above the plains and camp as it searched the grounds below for its master’s target. After a few uneventful rounds in the air, the woman emerged from a tents, half covered in plate and accompanied by another younger looking woman. Letting out a satisfied cry, it veered off from its pattern and glided off towards the nearby woods. As it reached the treeline, it dived below the greenery and moved deeper into the woods, dodging past trees as it turned and twisted to avoid the extruding branches before its body began to shift and morph into a more familiar winged feline figure. Finally, it opened its wings wide, killing its speed enough for it to land softly above a covered, makeshift campsite hidden beneath the tree’s shadow.

“Good girl.” The a lone figure below called as it tossed a dried piece of meat to the waiting mimic.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Several days prior
Imperial Ranger Barracks


Despite its name, Rohan always thought of the main barracks as more of an oversized camp than an official garrison office. Placed within one of empire’s many woodlands, the barracks was a separated from the tree line by an empty clearing and a well maintained palisade wall, inside stood a handful of large, semi-permanent tents along with a number of different makeshift training, maintenance and storage areas all surrounding a central, two story command center. Giving a nod in greeting to the guards, Rohan dismounted from his horse and moved towards it. From the get go he could sense the increased activity in the camp as rangers ran to and from the tents exchanging documents, ideas and maps as they worked to keep themselves up to date and prepared for the many dangers the empire could face. While the summoning had been relatively sudden, Rohan was relatively sure he could guess the reasoning. In recent times, rumours had spread of some unknown ‘grey fleet’ with unimaginable firepower and while not the first piece of gossip to depict some unknown and powerful entity, some of the details seemed too well defined for this to just be some stray story. Passing through the main structure and reaching the commander’s door, Rohan paused outside before racking his knuckles across it.

“Enter.” A familiar voice called from within.

“Captain Borth, responding to summons as requested.”

The room was relatively bare save for a few simple desks and an assortment of scrolls and books scattered across their surfaces. Behind the main desk stood an older man with short, well-kept hair and slightly darkened rings around overwise sharp, intelligent eyes. While age had started taxing the man’s body causing a slight hunch to form and grey to tip the the ends of his hairs, a lifetime of service and experience kept his movements fast and precise and left him looking perpetually ready to for action and duty. Once referred to as the empire’s hound, he was now simply Sir Randolf Gallion, Commander of the Imperial Rangers.

“Rohan? I figured you to be another day at least. Well, good of you to make haste, I’ve got a task that needs doing.”

“Anything interesting?”

“I hope not. I’ve got more than enough on my table as it is.” The commander stated as he pulled a small, rolled up missive and passed it forward. “I trust you know of the grey fleet rumours and the princess’ expedition already. So to keep a long story short, the emperor, while confident in his daughter’s capabilities, has requested that we send a scout to monitor her progress and report on the validity of any threats to the region.” he stated with small air quotes as he went.

“Seems straightforward enough. Go to the coast, check up on the garrison, investigate the rumours and make sure the princess doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that, especially within earshot of the crown, but that’s mostly it. The royal princess is travelling with a detachment from the Camellia Order so you should be able to catch up and find her party without too much trouble. When you do, pass on the missive so she's aware of your presence and make sure of her safety, beyond that, its a simple recon task. Keep us informed of findings as you go and find out the source of the rumors.”

“Anything I should look out for?”

“Anything out of the ordinary and if this grey fleet proves real, then try to gather as much as you can on them. Who they serve, where they came from and how strong they appear to be. Other than that, just try not to annoy her highness and her escort too much. Our honorable Sir Robinson is still demanding I throw you in a cell after the incident last winter, irritate the princess and I might just hand you over rather than deal with the legalities of it all again.”

“Incident? I don’t remember any incident.” Rohan replied innocently as he suppressed the urge to smirk.

“And just like that I’m regretting my decision. Gather what you need and speak with the map makers while you can, you’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it. I’ll expect your first report to come the moment you’ve learned something.”

“Yes sir.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunrise, 9th Suncrest, 6A-111

Raising to his feet after packing the remains of his camp, Rohan paused a moment to pet his faithful companion before making his way through the trees and into the plains.
‘What could go wrong?’ he told himself as he slung his bow over his shoulder and passed beyond the cover of the trees. Not too surprisingly, it wasn’t long before he was spotted, and a small troop went to intercept him. Knowing not to mess around with introductions to royal guards, he bowed low and spoke his greeting as he held out his insignia.

“Rohan Borth, Imperial Ranger. I’ve been sent on a mission by the crown and would request an audience with her royal highness.” He said in a flat, clear tone to the surrounding knights.

“…And your friend?” One of them eventually asked eyeing the oversized cat adorning his shoulders.

“Lunar Wardsight, she’ll obey commands given to her and acts under my instructions.”

Processing his sudden appearance and response, a drawn out silence came from the knights as they exchanged glances and shrugs before going on to carefully check over the newcomer's insignia. Eventually satisfied, one of their number returned it and continued.

“We’ll take you to the camp. You’re free to move about outside the tents but the princess will only speak with you if she has the time, you are not to approach her without permission. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Arriving behind the knights, Rohan watched as they fanned out to assist breaking down the camp and to spread awareness of his presence in the group. Beyond them and closer to the camp’s center, he could make out the princess and her knights. Adorned with enough plate to cover a horse, he couldn’t deny a sense of confidence in them, even a dragon would have a hard time getting past all that steel. Deciding to take advantage of his position, he settled down, comfortably on some of the open ground and waited to see how things would continue.

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Amarian Union
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Founded: Jun 24, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Amarian Union » Wed Jul 10, 2019 12:31 am

*Raven would look to Newman and Ryan, her head turning to what they spotted; two individuals entering her view. The tall one would catch Raven’s eyes, his description in terms of being clean catching her attention. Her face would be expressionless as she would see them in the distance, Raven deciding to approach Gutierrez slowly from behind. With a slight nudge of her elbow to her back, she would try to catch the Sergeant’s attention, keeping her gaze towards the two approaching in the distance. Remaining quiet, she would motion towards their direction with a simple gesture towards said-direction with her rifle. The quiet PFC would maintain her silence.

“Those two better not be hostile.” She would think to herself, hoping Sgt. Gutierrez would get her gestures and see the short girl and the tall, clean man in the distance. She would acknowledge the fact that Gutierrez probably didn’t trust her, but would also acknowledge the fact that that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t do what she was told.

Her eyes would be fixed on the two subjects approaching from the distance, her grip on her rifle tightening but her trigger finger remaining away from the trigger and keeping the M4 lowered. Her expressionless face would not give away her anxiousness.

“Should I break my personal rule for now?” She would ask herself. “No. It’s not needed... not yet. Not when I still can’t trust everyone around me.”
Last edited by Amarian Union on Wed Jul 10, 2019 1:33 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Mediama
Envoy
 
Posts: 280
Founded: Jun 20, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Mediama » Wed Jul 10, 2019 2:07 am

Tanuri Village, Empire of Corleans
June 9th, 2019: 0535


Cass continued staring at the duo, still trying to read into their expressions, before their EOD squadmate interjected into her train of thought. She turned to the rest of the squad in front of her, hesitating as she was afraid that had they moved on without telling anyone, they would’ve been in serious trouble, noticing that one of her fellow squad mates were already calling it in to the squad leader.

She turned back to Packard and nodded, “I-It looks like one of our squad members is already letting the sergeant’s know about their approach. We can go take a look.”

She then fidgeted with her chinstrap before she took the first few steps out, Packard in tow, to the duo in front of her.

As the two groups met up in the metaphysical middle between where the duo was originally spotted, and the convoy, still within eyesight and close proximity to the recon group. As they managed to move in closer, Cass couldn’t help but take a look up and down at the pair. She took out a slip of paper which had a list of a few phrases that were translated and briefed upon earlier.

In her best attempt, she spoke haltingly and slowly, trying to pronounce the words correctly for them to understand her. “G-Good afternoon, do not be afraid, we come with peace. We are Green Men from the Grey Fleet.” as a first gesture of kindness, she hesitantly and awkwardly took off her left glove and offered a hand out, palm open to show she had nothing to hide as a sign of peace.
Last edited by Mediama on Wed Jul 10, 2019 2:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
Basically, Canada with Naboo style royalty and more British. My supposed foil and puppet nation is Consertoria


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Ormata
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Founded: Jun 30, 2016
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Ormata » Wed Jul 10, 2019 2:01 pm

Warden Kiles & Sienne

She then fidgeted with her chinstrap before she took the first few steps out, Packard in tow, to the duo in front of her.

In her best attempt, she spoke haltingly and slowly, trying to pronounce the words correctly for them to understand her. “G-Good afternoon, do not be afraid, we come with peace. We are Green Men from the Grey Fleet.” as a first gesture of kindness, she hesitantly and awkwardly took off her left glove and offered a hand out, palm open to show she had nothing to hide as a sign of peace.


Kiles let-out a grunt, more of an exhaling from the nostrils, that some of the more lower-class from the nobility might do in annoyance. It was a good attempt, true, but a good attempt did not make for a good outcome in every case. Good Afternoon was said like a statement, though it was plainly wrong with the time of day as it was, and she’d told the pair to be strong. The idea that their intents were peaceful did come across to the Warden, though of course that’s what anyone would say, and she had identified herself as a member of the ‘Green Men from the Gray Fleet’. What a damn idiotic name for foreigners, though doubtless that’s not what they called themselves. Hopefully. If it was, they were more simple than shit-farmers.

He ignored the offered hand for the moment, looking the girl up and down with a blank stare. By no means was she tall, as would befit a warrior or soldier, and by no means was she exceptionally muscled to carry a heavy load for a long march. Of course, Kiles had met soldiers who’d failed the first criteria which was frankly an indicator of a stereotype, but he’d met nearly none who’d failed the second. Any soldier had a hefty amount of muscle on them but this girl? She was young and slender like a sapling with hair the color of the midday sun. Yet...was she a soldier or was she a diplomat, an interpreter? The fact that she’d taken-out a piece of paper to read from demonstrated that she wasn’t the second, her poor wording showing the same, and her stature...no, no, no it was all wrong. It was wrong for a diplomat who needed a strong back and a strong smile, harsh eyes and a heart burning with steel and determination. It was wrong for that. She was struggling to speak the words, struggling to keep her head up.

No, no. She was a soldier...if the foreigner had this sort of soldier, what kind of power must they have to war with knights and win easily? Were the stories mere rumors...

But of course what else might happen but Jori to appear in an instant, running at a fast enough pace through the tall grass by the forest. Her fur was matted, true, her intent easy, and despite the mass of the feline the muscle on display might be considered impressive. The noise was also impressive, the cat not quite caring on the whole of the matter in not being seen, ignoring for the most part the Green Men from the Gray Fleet. She merely ran, ran in a straight line from the forest to the two pairs of people. Of course, Kiles was not very disturbed by this, glancing back and nodding in some satisfaction, but Sienne...

She turned, stared, and a visible shiver ran down her back. Magic was everywhere, in everything, and she could feel it from them as the heat from the flame, warming her, but the cat? The great, big cat had nothing, was as cold as ice and dragged the heat in the magic away and away. The cat held nothing and Sienne wasn’t sure what it was. She’d never had the courage to question the Warden on the matter. Turning back, she made an effort, a good effort, to ignore the cat and ignore the cold, to not look into the strangers’ eyes if it offended them, to not look into their equipment for they might think she scheming, no. She stared off, off and off into the great distance and off into the great unknown.

Jori ignored the effort, running up and nearly body slamming into Kiles’s leg, running up and around to weave about the panted legs, and gave off a purr that could maybe be likened to the same strange vehicles of the Green Men, to the sounds they gave, to the roars they held, and stared at the pair of foreigners all the while. Kiles broke the purr with his own voice, taking the offered hand in his own bare one, squeezing it for a mere moment before breaking the contact.

“My name is Kiles and this is Sienne. A pleasure, I’m sure.”

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Amarian Union
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Posts: 23
Founded: Jun 24, 2019
New York Times Democracy

Postby Amarian Union » Wed Jul 10, 2019 2:35 pm

“This can’t be good.” Raven would think to herself approaching the group but staying behind Cass and a distance away from them. She would observe the tall man, her gaze going from him to the short girl to the cat and back to the tall individual. She would keep a tight grip on the M4, providing backup and security to the two of them.

“Well, this first impression doesn’t seem that good...” Raven would think to herself, remaining quiet and keeping her senses sharp and her guard up. She would look back to Gutierrez and then back at the man, the girl and the feline. Raven’s eyes would look into the man’s as he would introduce himself to Cass.

A feeling would come over Raven; she would be rather suspicious of the intent of the tall individual.

“This isn’t a simple sightseeing stroll for someone like him.” Raven would think. “I may have trust issues but something else is up... maybe somebody else wants to know if the rumors are true. I could be wrong.” She would look back at the group of locals, comparing their dirty appearance to that of the man, the difference clear as day and suspicious.

“I definitely don’t trust the man... not even the girl.” Raven would say to herself in her head.

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Bentus
Senator
 
Posts: 3831
Founded: Dec 18, 2013
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Bentus » Fri Jul 12, 2019 2:38 am

Countess Nanmara
Order Encampment, Sivalian Plains


Smiling as she watched her mount gorge on the bucket of food being held before its head, Nanmara offered the horse’s neck a friendly rub. Already wearing her riding gear and the lighter armour that she donned for less dangerous travel, the elf had been one of the first of the knights to rise from her tent. The strict, punctual schedule of an early morning had become second nature to her and she rarely slept in out of habit. Waking up naturally just before the crack of dawn, Nanmara wasted no time in busying herself with chores in preparation for the day’s ride. It never paid to waste time, and she found that a regular schedule of monotonous - but productive - activity in the morning was both relaxing and a good way to shake the last vestiges of fatigue from her limbs.

It also gave her the chance to clear her head and think. Which was an opportunity that was sorely needed given the frenetic chaos of recent days and the swirling, often contradictory rumours that had been spreading about their goal. Nanmara was never a fan of riding into the unknown, even if she would have been willing to ride off a cliff had the Emperor commanded it, and absolutely nothing was known about this Grey Fleet. They had emerged out of nowhere, apparently striking down a host of dragons with minimal difficulty and making landfall within the Empire’s territory. But any further information was either too suspect or outlandish to be believed, which gave the Order detachment a worryingly small amount of intelligence about whatever dangers awaited them.

Under normal circumstances, Nanmara would have relished the opportunity to prove herself with such a challenge. It certainly struck her as having the trappings of a real adventure, worthy of even the finest knights. But her duties had changed these past few years, and she had been forced to shift her priorities accordingly. She glanced over towards the Princess’ own mount, tied among the rest of the company’s despite standing out as a truly breathtaking specimen. Her thoughts wandered towards her royal charge, a slight look of concern maring her features as they did. It was one of the dichotomies of her role: to both protect and serve the Princess to the best of her abilities and beyond. This was an unmissable opportunity for the Order to prove itself in the field and to deal a blow to those who snickered about it as a bunch of girls playing at being soldiers. But Nanmara couldn’t deny that she had misgivings about sending the heir to the throne out against a potential foe when so little was known for certain.

“Countess!” The voice of another knight pulled Nanmara out of her reverie, and she turned to see one of the Order’s junior members offering her a polite salute.

“Dame Virtina, what is it? I trust that you slept well?” The Countess replied, returning the human’s gesture. Even though she was technically paired directly to the Princess and was not really part of the Order’s chain of command, Nanmara had found herself being slid into a role of authority as her comrades gradually opened up to her. It had been something of a relief when she found the Order to be so welcoming, in spite of her clearly visible elvish heritage, and the other women had only found it natural to treat an instructor and experienced knight with humble respect.

“As well as can be hoped, my Lady.” Virtina replied simply, a soft grin stretching onto her face as she recalled the rough night with her peers. “But this morning we received a visitor asking to speak with the Princess: a Rohan Borth. He claims to be an Imperial Ranger sent as an advisor.”

Raising an eyebrow at the new information, Nanmara placed the food bucket on the ground as she stole a glance back towards the camp. Sure enough, she saw a male figure dressed in drab robes milling about. “A Ranger you say?” She’d interacted with a few of the professional scouts in her time, and had mixed feelings about them to say the least. They undoubtedly provided a useful service to the Empire, but the image they presented was not one of inspiring chivalry and honor like the Knights. “Why weren’t we told that he’d be accompanying us?”

Following the Countess’ gaze, Virtina shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. Perhaps everything’s been happening so fast that word could not be sent before we departed? His orders bear the proper seal, so they’re almost certainly authentic.”

Humming to herself as she considered this new information, Nanmara offered the younger knight a thoughtful glance. “I see. I'll go see if I can figure out what he wants.” As Virtina offered another quick salute, showing the Order’s trainer all the proper formalities that she tirelessly drilled into them as much as any physical exercise, Nanmara turned to make her way over to where the Ranger sat among the Order’s tents.

As she approached the man, she could make out more details on his weathered face. He seemed to be at ease in the middle of the camp, patiently waiting for the Princess to come and address him. She couldn’t recognise him, although his role as a ranger meant that he was not a noble. “Mr. Borth, I hope that your journey was uneventful.” Even though her riding armor was lighter than the full plate she wore into a pitched battle, the tall elf still struck a fairly intimidating figure. “My name is Couness Nanmara, I serve at the behest of Her Royal Highness. May I ask what brings you and your -” She offered a sideways glance to the creature on Rohan’s shoulder. “- pet, to our camp?”
Last edited by Bentus on Fri Jul 12, 2019 2:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
- - Bentus
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Possible threat.
Forces active in a warzone.
At peace.
Member of The Galactic Economic and Security Organization

NationStates Belongs to All, Gameplay, Roleplay, and Nonplay Alike
Every NationStates Community Member, from Raider Kings to Brony Queens Make Us Awesome.
"Though I fly through the valley of Death, I shall fear no evil. For I am at the Karman line and climbing." - Bentusi SABRE motto

[22:07] <SergalKashra> it's not a matter that i can't think up something
[22:07] <SergalKashra> it's getting thoughts to screen
[22:07] <Avlana_> Oh
[22:07] <Avlana_> Try typing
[22:07] * Avlana_ nods
[22:07] * SergalKashra stabs Avlana_ in the knee

How Roleplays Die <= Good read for anyone interested in OPing

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